After the Bang
by Weinheim Paradigm
Summary: After the events of RFB II , an injured Spike comes to terms with his past, and learns how to live again. Possible spoilers if you haven't watched the series.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **So, this is my first story ever, probably only one too. We'll see. Anyhoo, this story has a lota lota lota backstory that I didn't bother to try to explain, so it's probably best to watch the series first. That being said, there are probably spoilers in here, so, yeah.**

**This takes place after RFB(II). I wasn't satisfied with the ending. Maybe this is a denial fic, 'cause I don't want him to die. But the director himself hasn't said if he lives or dies, so I'm justified :)****.**

**This originally was intended to be a one-shot, but if you like how I write, R&R and I might continue it *wink*. Concrit would be wonderful as well!**

* * *

"Bang."

The members of the Syndicate watched Spike Spiegel's knees buckle after speaking that word, watched him fall spread-eagle onto the steps to lay unmoving. No one moved for a moment. No one knew what to do. The highest of their mighty organization had all been slain. It was the end of the Red Dragon Crime Syndicate, and everyone in the room knew it. Another tense moment passed, before one man took a step forward. He gazed at the fallen man, his intention to gather him up and take him, somewhere. Instead, he lowered his eyes, turned, and walked through the crowd towards the exit. Slowly, the others turned to follow suit, going forward into their lives, with new futures and new prospects ahead of them. The last one closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch leaving Spike in partial darkness. Not two seconds after, the distant sound of jet engines could be heard, coming closer.

EARLIER IN THE BEBOP

Faye cried and cried after he left. She didn't understand these feelings she was experiencing. She had never felt so close to someone, so vulnerable. She had never exposed herself, to be left to the mercy of another person. She had just come to think of them as her family, and now one of them was gone, gone to certain death, adamant about facing his demons alone.

She leaned back against the wall, images of him flashing through her mind. How he had come to help her that day he'd fallen from the church. His wounds from the fight with Vincent. The injuries from his first encounter with Pierrot. Spike had died a thousand times, but he had always come back. She sighed with the resignation that, this might be the one he didn't come back from. Suddenly, a thought struck her. Something the two had been bickering about before he went to confront Pierrot:

"Maybe this is the one, the one I won't come back from. The end."

Faye stared at him, surprised. He smiled, "Just playing with your head. Would you rescue me if it were true?" She just muttered 'Lunkhead' to herself, but she knew she would, and in the end did, come for him. And she would every time.

Faye sniffed, and wiped the last of her tears with the back of her hand as she stood up. Thrusting her head up, she marched to where Jet stood, polishing a nonexistent spot, and staring through the window at where the _Swordfish II_ had vanished on the horizon. She cleared her throat loudly when he didn't notice her right off. Jumping a bit in surprise, he turned to her, eyes wide.

"Yeah, what is it Faye?" He huffed, annoyed.

"We're going after him."

"Now, look here. He doesn't want our help. He needs to face his past alone. It's my goddamn ship, and I say we stay! So get used to it!"

She crossed her arms across her chest and glared at him. "I don't know what kind of 'iron-clad honor system' you men have, but in MY philosophy, I don't abandon my comrades, no matter what the stupid lunkhead THINKS he wants. Got it!?"

"You're philosophy, since when do you have a philosophy? Other than cheating those you lure in just to take all they have!?"

Faye flinched, surprised that Jet would say something like that. Apparently he was just as messed up as she was about Spike leaving. But her hesitation only lasted a millisecond before she clenched her hands into fists by her sides and snarled. "I know what I used to be, but I'm changing into something better, and I KNOW he needs us. And you know it too!"

He bared his teeth, but stayed silent. She was right, of course. To think an irrational, egotistical woman was telling him what to do. He narrowed his eyes at her, but then sighed, letting his defenses fall. "Fine, you win. He looked up at her and smirked. "Let's go get the lunkhead."

* * *

Jet steered the Bebop towards the giant plume of smoke rising from the Syndicate headquarters, new determination and fear coursing through him. The ship passed over the blown-up roof, landing a small distance away on one of the few stable areas left. Even before the ship had set down, Faye jumped from it, her gun raised as she sprinted towards the roof-top stairs that would lead her to Spike. The door closed right before Jet yelled at her to wait. He huffed, but knew she could take care of herself. He sprinted in her wake down the stairs, ignoring the minute protests his injured leg gave him.

Faye opened the door to the large room where she had seen Spike laying from the ship. Cautiously, she stepped forward, but the building appeared to be deserted. Tucking her gun into her waistband, she ran to his fallen form, afraid of what she might see. Kneeling beside him, she grabbed his shoulder and turned him onto his back, sliding him 90 degrees to be parallel with the steps. Resting his head in her lap, she gingerly felt his throat for a pulse, trying hard not to be sick from the amount of blood covering his clothing. She released her breath when a pulse fluttered beneath her fingers, and smiled a little. For now, Spike was alive.

Jet ran in and looked at the pair in dismay. Faye looked up at him and smiled slightly, letting him know what he'd hoped for. He walked to them, and after placing a hand on Spike's cheek for a moment in concern, he pushed Faye to the side so that he could get under Spike's shoulders. Faye hurried to his feet, and the two of them carried the limp form of their friend back to the Bebop.

After placing his body onto the old couch, Jet ran off to the ship controls to take off. Faye stayed beside Spike, pressing a towel onto his belly wound. "Hey, where are we going!?" She yelled in the direction Jet had run off to. A communicator on the table sparked into life, making her jump. "I have an old doctor friend that owes me a favor. He can fix him up discreetly, and he doesn't live too far from here. I called him before we left, just in case, so he should be ready. We'll be there in another minute."

Spike groaned softly, making Faye look quickly back at him and renew her pressure on his wound. She leaned a little closer to his ear. "Spike, you with us?" He let out a breath. Faye thought she heard 'Julia'. "Hey, just a little longer, ok? Try just a little longer." He was still again. Faye's mouth was set in a grim line, and she hoped it wasn't too late.

The Bebop landed on the roof of a high-rise building a moment later. An older man stood still as the engines shut off, a gurney beside him. Jet came out a minute later, carrying Spike, Faye close behind. After placing him on the gurney, he shook the man's hand. "Doc Robinson, good to see you again." The doctor smiled warmly for a second at Jet before resting his eyes on Spike. "Let's get him inside." He said quickly, and pushed the gurney towards a door on the rooftop.

They took a freight elevator down one floor, the door opening to reveal what looked like a converted hospital wing, complete with checkered, lime-green linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting. The doctor went into a room with Spike, instructing the two bounty-hunters to stay in the hall. Faye looked at him in distrust, but Jet pushed her down into a chair. "We can trust the Doc, I always have." She huffed and crossed her arms, but said nothing. Another man jogged down the hall. "Hey, I'm Doctor Robinson's assistant, Jacobs, you're Jet right ok, gotta go!" He said in a whirlwind before opening and closing the door that Spike had gone into. Jet stared at the spot the man had been, looked down at his extended hand, then at Faye who was trying very hard to hold back her laughter. Jet grimaced and rolled his eyes, then sat on the hard plastic chair next to Faye to wait.

* * *

After an hour, Faye couldn't stay silent any longer. "So tell me, what's your history with this guy?"

Jet leaned back and put his arms behind his head before responding. "Ah, he had a daughter that got into some trouble when I was still with the ISSP. I was at his office getting a check-up, and he mentioned it in the midst of our small-talk. I said I'd look into it and help him out if I could. He said he'd owe me a favor if I helped. I'm cashing it in now."

"How do you know he'll keep quiet?"

"He 'retired' several years ago, for the same reasons I left the ISSP. For all they know, he's dead, and he does nothing to make them think otherwise."

"Yeah, I can see why they would think that, I mean the guy's ancient. How could a person be that ugly and still get around, you'd think his own reflection would reach out and strangle him just to put him out…of…" Faye stopped her rant at a warning glare from Jet. "Ah, heh, never mind."

"Anyway," Jet continued, "this building used to be a hospital. The lower floors were converted into apartments, but he payed off the contractor to 'accidentally' forget this floor on the plans for the renovations. The blue prints for the building say there are twenty floors, when there are actually twenty-one. He lives on this one, and treats people who need discretion, in exchange for whatever he can get."

"Psh, if I were him I'd charge top-dollar for such 'discretion'."

"Well, not everyone is as greedy as you are, miss Faye." Faye turned to him with a loud retort on her tongue, but stopped herself when the door opened. It was Jacobs.

"Hey, the Doc is still working, but he asked me to let you in on how your friend is doing. It looks like things are gonna be alright. I mean it's touch-and-go with cases like these, but, you know, the Doc is pretty good, I've seen him cure men that had been dead for an hour! Joking, anyways, gotta go!"

"Hey!" Jet yelled at the closing door. He exhaled forcefully before plopping back into the chair. "Well, it's good news for Spike then. The lunkhead…"

Faye held back her laughter again, despite the glares she was getting from Jet.

* * *

About five hours later, Faye had fallen asleep on Jet's shoulder. He ignored her as best he could, but let her rest. His eyes were growing heavy as well, and he knew he'd fall asleep too if he waited too much longer. Fortunately the door opened and the doctor stepped out. Jet shook Faye off his shoulder, earning an angry 'Hey!' before she realized the doctor was standing in front of them.

"We're done for now. He's as stable as one could expect, but I think he'll make it." Dr. Robinson smiled at them before continuing. "He's a very, very lucky man. We had to suture quite a lot internal damage from the belly wound. Fortunately nothing critical was damaged, the slash just missed his spleen, but, well, I suppose you're not interested in the details, are you. If you'd like to see him, you're welcome to. He's sedated for the moment, but you can visit for a short while." He gestured to the open door. Jet and Faye got up and walked inside.

Jacobs was cleaning things up, checking Spike's IV and vitals, as they entered. He looked up and smiled, then said softly "I'll leave ya'll alone. If you need anything, let me know." Before Jet could say thanks, the man had already left. Chuckling softly to himself, Jet looked to where Faye had seated herself beside their comrade. Walking over, he placed a hand on Spike's bandaged head fondly.

"Well Spike, you really did it this time." He smiled. "I'm glad you're ok, kid, the Bebop wouldn't be the same without you." Jet looked to Faye. She had rested her head on Spike's bed, looking at his face. "Faye, you doing ok?" She mumbled something incoherent. "Spike seems to be ok; you wanna bunk down here tonight, just in case?" She lifted her head and nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Ok, why don't you get some sleep on the next bed. I'll keep an eye on him." She got up, eyes glazed with sleep, and practically fell on the other bed in the room, asleep before she'd even hit the mattress. Jet chuckled to himself again and rubbed Spike's head. The doctor came in a moment later. "Everything alright Jet?"

"Yeah, we're just going to sleep here tonight, if that's alright."

"Certainly. I'm going to get a little shut-eye myself. Jacobs is in the next room, if you should need anything."

"Thanks Doc, for everything."

The doctor turned to leave, waving off Jet's thanks. As the door closed, Jet took Faye's abandoned seat and rested his chin on his hands, his elbows on Spike's bed, listening to the steady breath of his companion.

"Yep, buddy, I'm glad you're ok."

* * *

"Bang."

Spike managed a smile as he uttered his final word. But it fell short as vertigo took him, and blackness swallowed him up.

He felt hands on him. His head was being cradled by soft hands. He thought of Julia. He wanted to say something, to open his eyes and look into the eyes of his missing part, as he had so many years ago. But he could not do it. His eyes remained firmly closed, and no sound came from him. Strong arms lifted him, and the pain sent him back into the abyss.

The world rocked around him. He felt a great pressure on his belly. Someone was speaking near him, but it sounded distant, like he was underwater. He wanted her to sing to him. He filled his lungs with air, causing so much pain, making him groan. 'Julia, sing for me please.'

* * *

A soft beeping made itself apparent to Spike and it gradually got louder. He took a deep breath, choking on the air as the pain hit him. He let out a long, soft groan, and felt a hand on his forehead. He wanted to open his eyes, but he was so tired. Someone was speaking near him.

"Spike? Hey, you awake buddy?"

Was he awake? He supposed he must be, the dream had ended when…wait. The incident at the Syndicate headquarters came back to him; his final battle, his last word (or so he had thought), Julia…

Spike forced his eyes open, blinking in the bright light. When his eyes adjusted, he looked at his partner with heavy lids. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a series of dry coughs that sent rockets of pain through him. A hand slid behind his head, lifting it until his lips touched a cool glass of water. After drinking, his coughs subsided, and he looked tiredly at Jet.

"Jet…how's it going?" he mumbled.

Jet smirked at him. "How ya feeling?"

Spike coughed once. "Like shit, and you?"

"I'm doin' alright Spike."

"Good, glad to hear it." Footsteps wear approaching, and valiantly, Spike tried to lift his head, to no avail.

"Well well well, the mummy returns."

"Nice to see you too, Faye."

"Likewise. You know, I don't know what you'd do without me Spike, you keep getting yourself into trouble. It's just something that you've learned to do, and you know I can't keep coming for you all the time. You should be really grateful to me for…"

"Yeah, thanks Faye." Spike interrupted. He sighed. "So, could someone explain to me, uh, what exactly happened?" Another cough escaped him. His eyelids were getting very heavy.

"Maybe later Spike," Jet placed a hand on his shoulder, "I think you need to rest for now."

Spike mumbled a 'yeah, maybe' before letting his eyelids fall and succumbing to his nagging exhaustion.

Jet watched him sleep, and sighed. "Well, Faye, you certainly know how to make a guy sleepy."

"Psh, he's always sleeping. He doesn't need any help there."

Jet chuckled "That's true." He looked to the door as the doctor entered.

"Has he woken?"

"Yeah, just now. It was only for a few minutes, but he talked to us."

"Good, that's very good. He's doing very nicely. I think he'll be ready to be moved back to your ship so you can be on your way in a day or so."

Faye scoffed "He needs _more_ time? He's already been here a week!"

"Young lady, I'm only advising. It's for his well-being. You are welcome to take him with you whenever you want."

"Yeah," Jet jumped in, "or just leave and go about your business. If it's that hard for you Faye, no one's making you stay here. Why don't you go bet on the ponies like you always do?"

"Hey, I don't have to take that snarky attitude from you! I know perfectly well I can leave anytime, I just wanted to be here for Spike!"

Spike mumbled something in his sleep, and the trio looked down at him.

"Maybe we should take this outside" suggested the doctor.

"Yeah, good thinking, Doc." said Jet, glaring at Faye as they walked out the door.

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Spike alone with his dreams.

* * *

"It was…a dream."

Spike looked into her eyes, at his reflection in those beautiful blue pools.

"That's right, just a bad dream." He said softly as her eyes closed, as his reflection disappeared. He lay her body down and walked a few feet away, sighing.

"Spike."

He turned quickly to her, face-to-face with a gun barrel.

"Why did you let me die, Spike? Why didn't you die instead? Why didn't you save me?"

"Julia…I, I, I tried everything I could!" He watched in horror as her bullet wound bled out, great rivers of blood. The gun barrel remained steady.

"You let me die, Spike! I thought you loved me!"

"Julia, no, I…" The blood gushed out until he was covered in it, trying to see through the veil of red, a veil of Julia's life. The gun was fired with a loud bang. His hand raced to the sudden source of great pain in his forehead, and he fell to his knees, breathing heavily. Looking at his hand, he couldn't tell what blood was his, and what was hers. The sound of a sword being unsheathed made him look up from his bloodied appendage, into the eyes of a madman.

"Only I can set you free, Spike." With a great movement, he brought his sword down onto Spike. The pain was blinding!

Spike woke suddenly with a yell, covered in sweat. He heaved for a moment, his eyes darting around the dark room. He forcefully exhaled and wiped the sweat from his brow. The door opened then, and a silhouette stood in the doorway, surrounded by blinding light. Spike sat up slowly, using his hand to shield his eyes. "Only I can set you free, Spike." His eyes widened as the sword came down, reflecting the light from the hallway in a kind of beautiful, dark poetry, and time seemed to slow down as it approached him in a graceful arc. He screamed…

"Spike, Spike, wake the hell up!"

Spike was shaken from his nightmare by the strong hands of Jet. He sat straight up and lashed out with his hands.

"Oof! Spike you idiot, it's me, Jet!" Spike blinked, and allowed himself to look around the bright hospital room. He was panting and covered in a cold sweat. Jet glared at him, his hand on his now-bloody nose.

"Jet…" Spike said uncertainly. He continued to look around the room as his breathing slowed.

"Must've been one hell of a nightmare, Spikey."

"Uh…" Spike stammered, still trying to get his bearings. "Yeah, sorry Jet, about the nose." He grinned up at the large man. Jet just grumbled.

"You alright now?"

"Yeah. Say Jet, when am I gonna be able to get outta this place?"

"Today actually. In a couple hours most likely. I have to fuel the ship before we get going. I was actually about to do that when I heard you screaming in here."

"I was…screaming?"

Jet just looked at him like he'd asked the dumbest thing ever.

"Yeah. Like I said, it must've been one hell of a dream. Anyways, since you're awake now, I'm going to get going. Faye's run off somewhere, who knows if she'll be back." He rolled his eyes and raised his hands.

"Right, see you, Jet." Spike said quietly as Jet left the room. Leaning back, he rubbed his bandaged midsection. Vicious was dead, it had been confirmed. The Syndicate had been dismantled. Julia had died and he had lived. He was alive without her. Spike let out a long sigh. The demons of his past were gone. His life could go on, like he'd been born again. So why could he not shake the feeling that he'd never be able to get past this hump? He hoped his dreams would be the extent of his troubles. Dreams faded over time, and eventually died. He would outlive them, he was determined of that. He'd never wanted a cigarette more in his life than he did right then.

* * *

Between the time Jet had left and gotten back, Spike had somehow managed to get to the roof of the building, despite his injuries. Jet sauntered up to the man dozing in the evening sunlight, surrounded by cigarette butts.

"You know, I don't think the Doc would be too happy with you smoking in your condition, or in his building for that matter." Jet said with a smirk.

Without opening his eyes, Spike responded "For the record, we're _on_ the building, not in it. And I think I'm good for one smoke."

"One?" Jet responded skeptically, looking around at the dozen or so butts surrounding the man on his back with his hands behind his head.

Spike opened his eyes a bit and looked at the butts as well. "Heh, guess I got a little carried away." He sat up slowly, grimacing. "We ready? If I stay in one place too long, I tend to blend in with the wallpaper."

Jet raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, let me just tell the Doc." Jet turned and walked to the elevator, disappearing from view. Spike leaned back on his hands, closing his eyes and relishing as a soft breeze blew by. He opened them again, feeling somber. How could he go on without her? She was a part of him, the part he had thought he'd lost long ago. Could he exist as just a shell of a man as he did before? He rubbed his face with a slender hand, feeling very tired as the weight of the world crashed onto his shoulders. Or at least that was how it felt.

"I had a feeling my patient had escaped up here. Are you feeling alright son?"

Spike smiled, forgetting for the moment his worries as the doctor stepped up behind him. "Yeah pops, never better."

"When Jet said you were here, I had to be sure you were alright, although I'm sure you can take care of yourself."

Jet stepped up behind the doctor with his hand extended. "Well, Doc, as I was trying to say before you sprinted off to the roof, we're heading off. Thanks for all your help."

The doctor took his hand and smiled warmly. "Of course, son. And thank you for helping with Jenny, she's much happier where she is thanks to you. Consider the favor cashed in. And don't be too ashamed to come over and visit me once in a while, an old man loves the company of an old friend."

Jet smiled at him, then turned to Spike, putting the lean man's arm around his shoulder and helping him stand. Spike grit his teeth and hissed. One slow step at a time, they made their way to the Bebop.

Jet helped Spike to sit on the old couch before sitting adjacent to him on the chair. Spike slumped into the back and closed his eyes, drained from simply walking that short distance. He partially opened his eyes to gaze at Jet, who was looking at him with amusement.

"So Jet, you gonna let me in on what happened?"

"Well, what do you remember?"

Spike looked to the ceiling and brought his hand to his eyes as he tried to recall. "Well, I know Vicious sliced me in the gut. I thought I was going to die. I thought that, that that was the answer…" he finished cryptically, trailing off.

Jet furrowed his brow at his strange response. "Faye wanted to come after you. She made a pretty convincing argument," he grinned, "she's really not all that bad, you know?" Spike had his eyes closed. "Anyway, we came after you. The building seemed deserted. I found out later from Bob that the Syndicate was kaput. Faye found you collapsed on the stairs. You were pretty bad off, but you were alive. We took you to Doc and you know the rest." He sat back as he finished, putting his arms behind his head.

Spike opened his eyes and sighed. He smirked at Jet "That's a pretty good story."

Jet returned the smirk. "Yeah, it's a good one." He put his hands on his thighs and got up. "You rest easy Spike. I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

Spike nodded and lay down, letting his eyes close.

* * *

He was sitting on the couch, loading weapons and pocketing grenades.

"I don't want to do this, Jet."

"Then why are you?"

Spike smiled, "Let's just say my past is catching up to me."

Jet opened his mouth, but the words that came out were not in his voice "You should see yourself, do you have any idea what you look like right at this moment, Spike"

Spike looked up. He was in the cathedral on his back, a sword pressed into his shoulder.

"Vicious?" He said confusedly.

"The ravenous beast. The same blood runs through the both of us. The blood of a beast who wanders, hunting for the blood of others."

"I've bled all that kind of blood away."

"Then why are you still alive!"

Spike fell, as before. Only this time his life did not flash in front of his eyes. Only the reality of his situation. What had seemed to take an eternity before now only lasted seconds. His back hit something hard, and bursts of color flashed before his eyes before darkness consumed them.

In the darkness, he heard Faye's voice, distorted and faint "You've been asleep for three days…" "Spike, you with us?". The voice changed to that of a blind girl on Venus, still echoing and faint "…you're very different. I can feel these things. Both you and Rocco have something beautiful inside you. It's hard for most people to see it, but it's there. I know it is…" Her voice trailed off, and morphed one again into Julia's. "It was…a dream." "Spike?" Julia's voice whispered out, concerned. "Spike?" It was stronger now, more insistent. "Spike, wake up." Wake up from the dream. He felt something squeezing his shoulder, and his vision grew lighter.

Cracking an eye open, he caught sight of Faye shaking his shoulder gently. "Hey Spike, you alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He croaked, wondering how he could feel more tired after a nap.

"I think you have a bit of a fever; you're a little warm, and you're sweating."

He grumbled. "Jet got dinner ready yet?" He asked tiredly. He really just wanted to go back to sleep, but his stomach wouldn't hear of it.

"Yeah, that's why I came in here. Need some help sitting up?" She asked quietly, starting to rise from her seat on the table.

"No, no! I can do it, leave me alone." He threw a glare her way, starting to put a hand on the back of the couch to get himself upright. She scoffed.

"Well, forget it then. You know, you should be thankful I'm even sticking around to help your bandaged ass around!" She turned heel and marched out of the room. Spike had managed to pull himself part way up, halting to stare incredulously at where she had disappeared. He blinked hard, shook his head, and pulled himself the rest of the way up, groaning as he felt pain through his torso and arms. After swinging his legs to the floor, he placed his head in his hands, dizzy and exhausted.

Jet came in just then, holding a plate of noodles and a bowl of broth. "Well Spike, you sure do know how to piss people off." He stopped abruptly upon seeing Spike hunched over, breathing heavily with his head in his hands. He walked over, set the food down, and placed a hand on Spike's back. Spike moved his head to cup his chin in his hands, and looked sideways at Jet. He looked rather pale.

"You doin' alright Spike? You're not looking so hot." Spike shrugged. Jet continued "You might be getting an infection. Doc said it could happen. Hold on a sec." He got up and started rummaging through something behind the couch. A second later he was beside Spike, a syringe in his hand. "I'm gonna give you a shot of antibiotics. Let's see your arm." Spike complied wordlessly, staring straight ahead, lost in thought. 'She told me to wake from the dream' he thought hazily. If she wished it, he would do it. "Gotta wake up." He muttered suddenly, making Jet look up from his work.

"Eh?" Jet stared at Spike's profile with a furrowed brow.

Spike looked at him sideways again. "Nothing, what'd you make to eat?" He finished with a wry smile. Jet returned it.

"I get noodles, you get broth. Doctor's orders." He finished before Spike could complain. Spike sighed.

"Whatever." He reached to the bowl and started slurping. Jet cringed at the noise, but said nothing, and went to the chair to begin his meal.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Spike slurping noisily to annoy Jet, and Jet ignoring it like a champ. Finally, Jet set his empty plate down.

"So Spike, how are you really doing? Any more bad dreams?"

Spike set his bowl down slowly, thinking of what to say. "Not so much bad dreams as, well, different I guess. I think my mind is trying to work something out. I dunno." He finished with a shrug and picked his bowl back up.

Jet didn't look satisfied with the answer, but stayed silent, examining Spike who was busy with his dinner. Spike's hand went to his stomach suddenly, and he let out a strained sigh. Jet reached for his bowl before it fell. "Spike, what's up?"

Spike rubbed his stomach, trying to suppress the sudden onset of nausea. His spinning head didn't help with that. He leaned against his other hand, pressing his eyes, trying to make the room stop spinning. Jet seemed to understand what was happening and sat beside Spike to rub his back. "Hey man, can you keep it down?" Spike nodded, swallowing air. "Ok, pal, I'll help you lay back down, and you can sleep it off." Spike nodded again, not protesting as Jet took control and lay him on his back, afterwards lifting his legs off of the floor. Spike let out a 'Ugh', swallowing more air, trying to fall asleep. Jet patted his arm, "Don't worry bud, I'll stay here for a while in case you need anything." Spike let out a quiet sigh as he felt his body growing heavier, and sounds grew more distant.

* * *

When Spike opened his eyes again, the room was dark. He could vaguely make out a shape sitting adjacent to him on the chair, and he blinked a few times to focus. His breath caught in his throat as he gasped, sitting up sharply. Sitting there, staring at him with the utmost accusatory intensity, was Julia. Mixed in her gaze was also a heart-wrenching sadness. Spike stammered, his eyes growing wider as her bullet wound bled profusely.

"Ju-Julia?! Wha, how, uh…"

She sat and stared that penetrating stare, the gaze sending ice straight into his heart. "I'm dead, Spike."

Spike blinked in confusion. "W-whaddyou mean?"

"I'm dead. The dream is over. You have to wake up." Her figure shimmered and flowed, coming in and out focus. Spike could feel panic and confusion rising in his chest. She continued, "What we had, you must let it go. Or it will destroy you." She faded, almost invisible, and Spike got up quickly, reaching, trying to keep her from disappearing. Her form vanished with a whispered "Let go."

He plopped back down, feeling defeated and lost. Her blood was still on the chair, and he stared at it without focus. "It's not so simple," he whispered to himself, "or, or is it? Have I reached the core of the onion finally? Have I reached reality?"

"You should know, Spike." A cool voice slithered from behind him, and he turned with a start to see the faint outline of Vicious leaning against the wall, his head bowed. When Spike said nothing, the silver-haired man glided to stand in front of Spike, his katana unsheathed. With an icy gaze into Spike's eyes, he repeated "You should know."

"Know what?" Spike said as he finally found his tongue.

"That we are the same. Only I can kill you and set you free, and I can only be killed by you."

"But…you are dead…" Spike said hesitantly, scratching the back of his head in confusion.

"Then you should know, Spike. I died by your hand. You died by mine."

"But, I'm still alive…" Spike had no idea where this was going.

With an angry cry, Vicious suddenly struck Spike's gut with the hilt of his katana, his eyes blazing with rage. The air was knocked out of Spike, and he gagged and fell back to the couch. Suddenly the room was ablaze with light, and as Spike cracked his eyes open and looked up, he saw that Vicious had gone. And then he was struck with a pungent odor. He shakily looked down at the spinning floor, where a bucket was now filled with vomit, presumably from him. He gagged again and his nausea spiked, and he leaned over to throw up even more. He felt a hand on his arm, and when he was done, a towel was handed to him. He took it and wiped his mouth, his mind cloudy with confusion.

"You alright now Spike?"

Spike looked up to his right at Faye hovering over him. She was doing a terrible job of masking her worry with disgust. She answered his unasked question. "You started throwing up in your sleep." He felt suddenly very weak and cold and started to shiver harshly. Faye bit her lip and looked over her shoulder to the hallway leading to Jet's room, worry now distinct on her face. With a grunt, Spike plopped his head down and drew his arms around him, trying to stay warm.

"Wh-hy th-th-the hell is it sohhh c-c-cold in here?" He stuttered. Faye put a hand to his forehead, hissing at the heat. "Hold on Spike, I'm going to go get Jet." She got up abruptly, leaving him shaking on the couch. His vision was blurring and his eyelids were falling despite his struggles to keep them open.

When he opened his eyes again, Jet was pacing the room, talking to someone over the phone, and Faye sat on the couch beside him, holding a cold cloth on his forehead. When she saw him awake, she smiled slightly at him. "Hey Spike, glad you're awake again. You feeling any better?"

Spike for a moment had a lapse of recognition. "W-w-where a-are we? W-what's g-going on?"

Faye looked alarmed, and after a quick glimpse at Jet, she turned to him and said softly "We're on the Bebop, Spike, don't you remember?"

Spike blinked and started to try and get up. "I gotta go, I gotta go to, do, something…" She pushed him back down, an eyebrow raised. He struggled against her, too weak to get any upper hand. "L-lemme go! I gotta go, it's important, you don't know how…importha…" Spike's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell back to the couch.

Faye looked at his limp form with alarm, then back to Jet. "Jet!"

Jet hung up the phone finally. "Doc says to just keep him warm and keep a cold compress on him. It should pass on its own."

"What the hell is wrong with him!?" Faye shouted, feeling anger, though she didn't know why.

"Doc says it's probably just an infection that's gotten a little out of hand. I told him about the antibiotics I gave him a few hours ago, and he said that was good, that we got it early. Now we just have to wait for them to work."

"That's bullshit if he thinks we're just going to sit here and let-." She stopped when Jet raised a hand, a look demanding no argument on his face.

"If the Doc orders it, we do it. He's on our side Faye," he stated softly, "we can trust him."

She barred her teeth at him, stood up with a growl, and stormed out of the room. Jet let out a long sigh, and took her place by Spike, holding a cool cloth on his head. The lean man shook under his blankets, murmuring in his sleep. Jet ran a hand over his head in fatigue, letting lose another long sigh. "I hope you can get this under control Spike, it'd be a shame to lose ya after we just got you back."

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was that he felt dirty, like he'd just come home from running around in the dirt on a hot summer day. Soon his senses branched out, telling him he was covered in something warm, soft, and heavy. They were also telling him that they were tired beyond belief, and any request to move would be immediately denied. But Spike was never one to adjust to the rules. He made a finger twitch a bit, working up the nerve to try and open his eyes. Slowly, very slowly, they moved upward, revealing a world of blurry colors that spun and shimmered like sunlight on an oil spill. He blinked in half-time, and then again. Soon, the blurs came together into shapes, and he saw Faye, sitting on the chair across from him, playing solitaire. She looked up after a moment.

"So, awake finally, eh?" She lay her cards down and walked the two steps over to him, sitting down on the table. She reached over to feel his forehead. "Well, you're much cooler. That was an interesting little bout you had there. You've been asleep for almost two days. Jet had to give you some more antibiotics, and some other stuff the doctor gave us before we left." Spike blinked slowly at her, too tired to say anything. Faye seemed to notice. "Well well well, what an opportunity I have before me. Spike Spiegel, too tired to open his big mouth and give me a hard time." She lifted her hand to her chin on mock thought. "Now, what should I do? It's not often a girl like me is given an opportunity like this." Spike managed a groan, the effort of that nearly sending him back to unconsciousness. He blinked a few more times, trying to bring the world back into focus. Faye looked at his face.

"Ok, ok, I'll go easy on you. Spike, you are really too much of a drama queen. You act all tough and cool and the like, but all you really want is attention, don't you? And _that's_ why you're always getting into trouble, blowing things up, and getting into conditions that you are in right now." She looked at him solidly before continuing, the mischievous gleam ridiculously apparent in her eye. "You think that it's ok to run around like a chicken with its head cut off, just to let someone else pick up the pieces." If looks could kill, Faye would be dead on the floor at Spike's glare. She failed to notice. "And when those consequences finally do come and bit your ass, you prattle on some pseudo-meaningful quote to make it all better." She let out a sarcastic laugh. Spike growled. Faye looked at him again, and seeing the glare finally, she decided it would be a good time to stop torturing the Jeet Kun Do master that was, for the moment, out of action. She rose from the table.

"But anyway," she resumed, nervously, "I'll let you get some more rest." She promptly vanished behind the couch, out of his range of vision. He breathed slowly a few times, trying to get his anger under control. Soon, he was relaxed again, and let his drowsy mind wander. Eventually, he thought of what dream-Vicious had said, that they had both died and been set free. His brow furrowed a bit. But he was alive. He had survived. So why was his mind telling him he'd died by the hand of Vicious?

"Swimming Bird's star has faded, but it has not gone out." Spike looked to where the old Native was sitting on the chair. When had he gotten there? "Swimming Bird's star can be re-lighted. It will never again reach the power it one had, but it can come back."

Spike waited for him to continue, but the old man sat there with is eyes closed and sand in his fingers. Spike realized then that he must have fallen asleep again. He sat up, pushing the blankets off, noting his bandage-free body. "So," he said slowly, "I am free. Vicious and I dealt death-blows to each other, but because I'm as lucky as I am, somehow I survived, though barely. My former life is gone, but I'm still alive, so I can start again. So, wait, why can't it be as bright as before?" He looked up, but Laughing Bull was gone. Spike raised his eyebrows in thought. He shook his head a few moments later, smiling. "Because I was in love with Julia. Two stars together make it brighter. So I guess that means I'm gonna be a loner the rest of my life." He added with a laugh. He sighed. "Well, we'll see about that. I got a lot of life yet to live, old man Bull, and I can do with it whatever I want. Life isn't a dream anymore. I'm gonna carry that weight with me wherever I go."

Spike opened his eyes. He was once again lying on the couch, wrapped in bandages. He smiled a true, satisfying smile. "I'm gonna carry that weight."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: We got out of class early today, so I wrote this little blurb. I'll be honest, I didn't much like the ending I had for the last chapter. My internship was starting, so I kinda finished it up quicker than I should have. Sorry. When I get more time, I plan on going back and revamping it. And when I say more time, I mean in 12 months when my internship is over :-P**

* * *

A week later, Jet was in the kitchen, stirring up some fry. As he was dumping the charred peppers onto a plate, he heard a soft sigh behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Spike leaning on the doorway, a hand rubbing his bandaged belly and a look of disappointment on his face.

"Peppers again?"

Jet smirked, and turned back to the wok. "Just be thankful you're not still on broth."

Spike managed a smirk. He was indeed thankful for that. He parted his lips slightly in frustration as his stomach growled loudly. He sighed again, and shuffled back to the couch, Jet in his wake. They sat opposite each other in silence, and after Jet had handed Spike his portion, they ate in silence.

"Well isn't this a cheery bunch." Faye's disdained voice sounded from above them. Not even bothering to look up, Jet waved her down from the steps leading to the hanger.

"Cooked a little extra if you're interested, Faye. I was going to save it for Spike's bottomless stomach, but you came at the right time." He finished with a smirk. Spike growled in irritation, finally looking up to where Faye was coming down the stairs.

"I thought you'd left for good this time Faye; why must you keep torturing me?"

Faye narrowed her eyes and scowled, but a moment later she broke into a sarcastic smile. "I just can't have a complete day without torturing you, Spike." She lowered herself onto the couch beside him, an arm coming to the back and trailing along towards him. Spike repressed a shudder and set his plate down.

"So, did you find anything for us?" Spike asked. Faye grabbed his half empty plate, and after placing a few choice peppers in her mouth, looked at him sensuously from the corner of her eye.

"Us? Doesn't queen Spike need a few more weeks to recover? I mean Jet and I have already taken care of one very nice bounty by ourselves while you were sleep-talking to who-knows-what's-in-your-head, and amazingly," she put on an expression of mock shock, "there were no injuries, no casualties, and no destroyed property. Just a nice big load of woolong. Really Spike, you'd be doing us and yourself a favor by sitting out for a little while longer. Like forever." She smirked at him and continued to help herself to Spikes dinner.

Spike glared, but before he could shout out a retort, Jet stopped the conflict that was sure to come. "You should watch your tongue Faye. Me and Spike here were partners for three years before you crashed into our lives. I'm not going to deny that this recent job was," he hesitated and glanced at Spike before continuing, "productive. But we should by no means deny him a hunt just because he," Jet hesitated again, "is less than delicate about getting the same job done." By now Spike was bristling and turning red in anger. He threw his arms up in the air,

"I can't believe the two of you! Since when do you get to decide what I do and don't do!?"

"Since that day three weeks ago when Faye found you more than half dead in a pool of blood." Jet answered quietly. Spike would have retorted, but the genuine sadness on Jet's face stopped him. He took a deep breath, willing his anger away. Beside him, Faye had stopped chewing, and was looking back and forth between the two of them, surprised that she was allowed to witness such a moment between the two men. Spike opened his mouth, hesitating, before speaking.

"I had to go Jet, you know I did. And you know it wasn't just for me either. They would've kept coming…" Jet slammed a metal hand down onto the table with such force it dented slightly. Faye jumped, the peppers flying everywhere. Spike didn't flinch as Jet stared at him dead in the eye. Jet knew it all. He knew why Spike had gone, knew what would've happened if Spike had stayed. He knew that he wasn't sad for Spike doing what he had to. He was just sad that this strange man he had come to call 'friend' would be willing to sacrifice his life for him. For his future. He was sad that, that although Spike could do it for him, Jet wasn't sure he could do it for Spike. He was angry at himself.

Spike could see it all in Jet's hard stare. The silence between them was thick with unspoken communication. They both understood and came to a resolution, and after a moment, the two sat back with normal expressions on their faces. Faye stared at the two of them in confusion, the forgotten peppers hanging in her hair. She jumped slightly as Spike suddenly lunged forward and grabbed one before flinging it into his mouth, chewing nosily. Faye blinked, and then let out a scream of frustration. She launched off of the couch and marched out of the room, muttering something about men and lunkheads under her breath and combing her fingers harshly though her hair. The two watched her disinterestedly. With the sound of a door closing far off, Spike turned to Jet with is eyebrows raised. "She never answered my question."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, another blurb for your reading pleasure. I basically said 'screw you' to my homework today because I needed a break, and badabing-badaboom, another chapter is born! It's not very long, but, you know, better than nothing, right?**

* * *

Faye entered the darkness of her room with an angry energy that fell as soon as the door closed. Sighing heavily, she leaned back against the door and ran her hand through her hair absently, staring at the grated floor. It was dark in her room. It was always dark. The only light that ever entered was either from the hallway when the door was open, or from the little television set at the foot of her bed. It seemed appropriate, really. Her life had always been dark and uncertain. Her past had been the only bright spot, whenever she watched the tape. The image of her past self on the screen was a forgotten truth, but the fact that it was absolute made it a comfort. There were no lies on the tape. Only sadness, at first because she couldn't remember, but then after, because she _could_ remember. She would never again be that innocent and naïve. She'd been thrust into a world where she didn't belong, and it had changed her on the inside. She wished for it back sometimes.

Slowly, Faye raised her eyes, and heavily tread the short path to her bed. She lay down and stared at the ceiling. So black. So dark. Drifting through nothing. Closing her eyes, she let her senses drift out. She heard the ship, felt the vibrations of the engines, smelled oil and dampness. If she tried hard enough, she could almost feel the warmth of the two men sitting in the common room. The two men with troubles all their own. Too busy to pay her any mind. Not that she needed it. Not that she had ever needed it. She grit her teeth, opened her eyes, and sat up, swinging her legs over the side.

Those men! What a source of frustration! She rubbed the back of her neck. Though she was often frustrated by them, she frequently envied their friendship. The incident a few moments ago had been too much for her to bear. No one had ever been able to do that with her. To connect at such a deep level. They had had a silent conversation, something that could only be done by those sharing a strong bond. She felt the conflict, and felt the resolve, as had the men. She didn't understand, though she wanted to desperately. She wanted someone to look at her like that.

In the darkness of her room, she was alone. The moment in the common room reminded her of just how alone. Although she had come to think of Spike and Jet, and even Ed and Ein, as family, she would always drift, and she would always be lost. The realization overwhelmed her for a moment, and she shivered and felt her eyes water. Silent sobs shook her. She hated when she broke down like this. Whenever it happened, she always managed to hold back her anguish enough to remain silent. After all, a façade was only good as long as it was believable. If anyone knew her sadness, her _weakness_, she would be forced to run again. She was tired of running.

Faye let out a sigh. Would she ever be accepted by them? Would she ever connect with them, with anyone? She sniffed. So what if they didn't? So what if she was alone, so what if she would always be alone? She didn't need them, or anyone. She would drift, but she would fight anything that came into her path. Tooth and nail. As she had learned to do. As she had learned, was necessary in such a cold universe. A universe so saturated with problems, that any peace to be found was a blessing.

Humph. She supposed that was how Spike saw Julia. Spike's one, solitary bit of peace in a troubled universe. And even that peace was fraught with troubles. Spike had tried to fight against them; a valiant effort, but ultimately futile. No one could have fought such an awesome oppressive force. If the universe dictates sadness, then sadness must be. She hoped Spike knew how lucky he was to have experienced peace, even for such a small moment in time. There were few that had.

Faye regained her composure in the dark room, lifting her chin and taking a deep breath. She fingered the data chip with their next head, which had been sitting idle in her pocket, and started towards the door. Alone, she would always be alone. But she would vainly search for peace and some kind of connection, as all people do. Light flooded the small room, and then it became dark and silent once again, waiting indifferently to comfort with cold arms and a harsh slap of reality.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So another blurb, because I don't want to study. Man, that first chappie has really been bugging me, but instead of changing it, I'm gonna work with it. I mean, a romantic-type guy like that should not get over a love interest so quickly, am I wrong? I'm not a romantic person in the least, have never had a significant other, never been in love, but from what I've observed from romantic people is that thy tend to pine when 'soulmate' has been ripped away from them. And pine longer than a few weeks. Maybe it's because Spike's always seemed to be a 'well, shit happens, I'm moving on with my life' kinda thinker that made it ok for him to get over it so quickly. But in real life, that wouldn't happen, most likely. I dunno, in any case, here's another short one for you to chew on.**

* * *

After about fifteen minutes, Jet rose from his seat, reaching for the empty plates on the table. Spike studied him. The larger man still seemed solemn. As Jet was turning towards the kitchen, Spike finally opened his mouth. "Jet, hold on a sec, we need to talk."

Jet arched an eyebrow at Spike over his shoulder, but turned and sat down, not meeting the sharp eyes of his companion. "So talk" he stated bluntly.

Spike scowled. "You're still bothered, aren't you? Jet, come on. I get it."

Jet looked up sharply. "Do you, Spike, do you really? Because I'm pretty sure I watched you leave that night, and I was sure there wasn't a thing I could do about it. But even with my leg shot up, Spike, even if it was your fight to fight, I should've done _something_. Men stick together, one way or another. All I did was watch!" Jet slammed his fist onto the table again, increasing the indentation. This made Spike smirk.

"So what'd the table do to you?" Jet scoffed and started to rise. "Hold on, Jet. Look, you're being stupid. What are you thinking, huh? Didn't come after me, that's bull, because you did. And so what if Faye had to make it obvious to you that that was what you wanted to do? You and your honor system," Spike sighed and rubbed his neck, "it's not so obvious to you, but it is to everyone else in the universe. You respected my need to go in alone. And in the end, you did come, when I really did need you. That is honor. And that's all there is to it." Spike sat back and put his arms behind his head, looking extremely pleased with his consoling skills. Jet glared at him.

"Yeah, whatever Spike. Listen I'm going to take care of these, why don't you go see if Faye actually did find us a head."

"Aww, Jet, do I have to? She's probably already left again, anyways. That woman is so flighty."

"Yes, Spike, you have to." Jet walked to the kitchen muttering about annoying children. Spike groaned, and rose to find where Faye had gone to. He didn't take two steps before he heard her coming out of her room. She floated into the room with all the flirt of a hard-to-get woman and settled herself down on the chair. Crossing her legs in a revealing manner, she glanced up at Spike. "Well, don't just stand there; get Jet so we can talk about our next lead."

Spike stared at her incredulously, but followed her command and went to fetch Jet. Faye smirked at herself. Men were too easy sometimes. A moment later, Jet and Spike sat in front of her on the couch, looking expectant. Faye leaned forward and plugged the chip into the television. The image of a short, grubby man with an oily comb over and a helpless look came on the screen. Spike leaned towards it, reading.

"Eugene Halevi. What's the deal, Faye, he looks like a small fry."

"Looks can be very deceiving. The price tag on this guy is fifty million woolong." Both Jets and Spikes jaws dropped. Faye enjoyed the reaction. "Yes boys, this guy stepped on the wrong toes, and now has a golden head for it."

"But Faye," Spike started, "there's gotta be a catch. No way is someone like this little greaseball worth that much. I mean a kid could catch this guy with a pop gun!"

"Oh Spike, my simple minded friend," Spike shot a glare at Faye, "did I not just say looks are deceiving? This guy has had so much surgery, that no one knows what he looks like. He's been on the run for almost a year now, and those that want him are getting very antsy."

This time Jet spoke up. "So let me get this straight, Faye. We have a head with a very large bounty on it, but we have no idea what our target looks like? When you saw the price tag, did you just completely lose your mind? How are we supposed to find this guy?"

"Jet, ye have little faith," Faye smiled sensuously, "I just so happened to find out that this little bugger is hiding out on Earth. The person I spoke to said he had had a bad drug deal from him, but said that he deals with him often enough to know that Earth is his sole tune."

"What kind of drugs are we talking here, and who exactly did you talk to?" Spike asked warily.

"Some special breed of shroom or some other weed, how should I know? The guy seemed upset enough to take him seriously. Call it a woman's intuition."

Spike groaned and slapped a palm to his face. "Not that again! The last time we looked into your intuition, I got shot, beat up, and all life on Mars almost ended!

"But if we hadn't followed it, life on Mars probably would have ended!" She shot back. Before the livid Spike could respond, Jet interrupted the squawking fest before it got too out of hand.

"Anyway! Faye, tell us what else you know."

Faye composed herself, shot one more glare at Spike, and continued. "Well, we know the general areas where drug smuggling is common, and, another fun fact I picked up, our target has a certain fetish for a particular type of Martian brandy. I figure we trace purchases of such brandy, ID the guy, and grab him." She looked at them triumphantly. They both looked skeptical. Spike was the first to voice his hesitation.

"Yeah, but for that kind of money, there has to be some kind of catch. Why hasn't he been caught in a year, if it's so easy? I dunno, my gut is telling me to be wary of this."

"Psh, that's just because the drama queen in you is trembling. Too easy for you Spike; you gotta have near-death in nice catches for it to count, don't you?" Faye asked with a mock sweetness. Spike grew red and opened his mouth. Fortunately, yet another shouting match was alleviated by Jet.

"We can at least look into it, Spike. You've said before, can't ignore a woman's intuition." Spike looked to Jet, then to Faye, and back to Jet again, before finally letting his shoulders drop in defeat.

"Fine, let's go snoop around a little."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: BAHAHAHA, well! This chappie is in honor of no quizzes next week!** **And of procrastination all last week. Yeah...**

**Big thanks to my friend Ash Riley for editing my grammar in this...it's been too long since I've taken an English course. Hope ya'll enjoy this; it's got torture in it, squee!  
**

* * *

From his perch on the hillside, Spike watched the small liquor store through his glasses. With the darkness of the evening as his cover, he was relatively at ease. The crew of the Bebop had been observing the store, which was one of only three businesses in the small desert town of Hillyard, for the better part of a week, taking note of those who frequented it. From their usual perch about 500 yards away, they had narrowed down Eugene Halevi, and his new appearance. Spike watched the short man, now bleach-blonde and with a full head of hair, a sharp wardrobe, and a confident stride, as he exited the establishment, paper bag in hand. The man stopped and stood still for a moment. As the seconds ticked by, Spike grew more concerned. It seemed almost as if Eugene knew he was being watched; his body language bled out awareness, with stiff shoulders and alert posture. For over one minute, the man stood, before finally starting forward again. A few minutes after he entered his car and drove off, Spike picked up his radio.

"Hey, Jet, you there?" A moment passed. "Jet, you there?" A hiss of static.

"Hey Spike, what's up?"

"Halevi just left. But I think he knows he's being watched. We'd better do this soon."

"Alright Spike. Come on back and we'll get a plan together."

"Be there in twenty." The comm clicked off. Spike started to rise from his perch, when he heard a slight noise. To anyone else, it would be nothing of concern; something dismissed, like some rodent scurrying in the dirt. To Spike, it meant he was about to have a fight. After rising to his full height, he waited in a defensive position. A tense minute passed. A sudden sharp hiss sounded from his left, and instinctively he turned to face it, at the same moment feeling a sharp prick in his neck. He brought his hand quickly up to remove the needle, but it was too late. He barely had time to register the empty syringe before his vision blurred and his body went limp. He hit the dusty ground without much ado. Before losing consciousness, two leather-shod feet approached him slowly.

"Well, Mr. Spiegel, it seems you have a knack for coming back from the dead."

A blurry face came into his vision for a second before it all went dark.

* * *

Awareness trickled in, bit by bit. First he felt cold, and then registered the cold cement floor he was lying on. With that came the smell of cold must. Soon after, he felt discomfort, and then pain, in his arms and shoulders. It took a moment for his drugged brain to come to the conclusion of rope; he was tied up with rope. A slight rush of adrenaline at that fact helped him lift his eyelids, and focus on a man sitting on a metal chair near him in a small dark room, watching him seriously. After seeing that Spike had awakened, the watcher rose and knocked on a thick metal door, the only aperture in the steel-lined room. A small sliding partition opened, and the man nodded to someone outside. Half a second later, the door opened inwards, and another large man walked in. The two of them grabbed Spike under the shoulders and knees and dragged him up onto the chair. Spike had initially tried to disable both men with a kick when they had approached, but found he couldn't move his legs. After they set him on the chair, he tried for a head-butt, but instead of striking, his head lolled forward, leaving his chin resting on his chest. He had no control over his body. His hair was grabbed from behind, jerking his head up roughly, and the newer man shined a penlight in his eyes, studying the pupilary reaction.

"Mmmmmwhaddya…mmmwhaddya thinkyer…dooin'?" Spike slurred out from a paralyzed jaw. Immediately after he said it, he was surprised at how difficult it was to speak. This drug was different from ones he'd had before. The man looking at his eyes ignored him, and instead looked to the other man and nodded. The one behind Spike released his hair and his head fell forward. The two left abruptly, leaving Spike sagged into the chair like a ragdoll.

Several minutes passed. Spike was growing increasingly sore and uncomfortable from the awkward position he had been left in, and from the rope cutting into his flesh. He willed his muscles to move even a little, but they wouldn't comply. More time passed, and he was beginning to think that he had been forgotten, when the door opened again, and Eugene Halevi sauntered in and stood before Spike. Spike's hair was grabbed from behind again, jerking his head in such a way that Spike was looking into the eyes of his abductor.

The blonde studied Spike for a moment before finally asking "You don't recognize me, do you Mr. Spiegel?"

"MmmmmI, recognize…the slimy littlehead…mmmmwith fifty mill on hisssss head."

"Ah, my apologies, I forgot about the paralytic effect on your speech. Morris?" The man who had looked at his eyes came into the room. "Morris, please fetch serum 89 and administer a cc IM to Mr. Spiegel here." Morris bowed slightly and left, returning half a minute later and shooting an injection into Spike's right arm. Eugene looked expectantly at Spike for a moment, and then repeated "As I was asking, Mr. Spiegel, you don't remember me, do you?"

"Remember you? I've been tracking you for the past week, why shouldn't I know who you are?"

"But, think back, farther, sir, back, oh say about, mmm, six years? To a little business trip you were erranded to run for your organization?"

Spike looked at the little man blankly. Seeing he would have to prod a little further, Eugene spoke again.

"Alright, Mr. Spiegel, I'll help you out. You had been sent to the asteroids to complete a drug deal. The Dragons were looking for something new. We made the deal, you got the drugs, but instead of paying, you shot me and left me for dead. I still wonder to this day what went on in your head. Your eyes were so cold, Mr. Spiegel. I expect you were only following orders, but you were so heartless. Ever since that day, I've been keeping an eye on you. When you died the first time, I was sad that I was not the one to have pulled the trigger, but it was good enough to know that you were dead. But then you came back. And I still watched. Perhaps I was too human to take the life of another. At this point, that thought is simply academic. After your second death, I knew I couldn't wait any longer."

"But you said it yourself, I was only following orders. Why the grudge, I have no beef with you, other than the price on your head, and that's strictly business."

"Yes, yes, business. That fact may make it alright for you to murder, sir, and it may be alright if you took the lives of those that deserved it. I don't deny, in my trade, I probably have lost the innocence that exempts me from such a grace as to be spared on account of innocence. But, Mr. Spiegel," his voice took a sharp upturn, and he started to shake, "but why, tell me why, was it so necessary to kill my family!?"

Spike stared at the man with growing worry. He had no recollection of the affair; it really was just business back then, he had no regrets. In the Syndicate, he'd been required to do terrible things, and it had been ok, until he met Julia. Now the man before him, who was growing more and more agitated over something that Spike could not recall, was getting too emotional for any good to occur. Spike was just hoping he wasn't going to get shot again. He hated getting shot.

Halevi noted Spike's expression and the total lack of regret that he'd been expecting. This took his anger to a new level. From his pocket, he took out a collapsible rod, and with a flick of the wrist let it come to it's full length. Spike didn't flinch. Halevi stepped to stand just inches from Spike and pointed the rod at Spike's face. "Answer me, now." He said coolly.

Spike smirked. "Sorry, I'm afraid I can't help you on that one. I just can't remember."

Halevi stood stone-still, and then smiled a cool, dangerous smile. "Well, Mr. Spiegel, we'll just have to give you another memory prod." He raised the rod suddenly and brought it down on Spike, striking the man's cheek and lip. Spike's head rolled forward as his hair was released from behind. The blood that spilled from Spike's busted lip served only to encourage Halevi more, and he brought it down, again and again, each strike harder and less controlled than the previous. Twenty seconds passed. Thirty. The man that had previously held Spike's head up was now standing to the side, looking bored. He cleared his throat after a minute, halting Halevi in his manic beating. Spike's face was a bloody mess, and he was barely conscious. Halevi took several deep breaths, the crazed look in his eye fading as he regained control of himself.

"Hardig," the blond spoke to the bored guard, "let's go, and give Mr. Spiegel some time to think about his past." The two left the room, closing the door with a loud clang. Spike was left in fluorescent-lit agony. He slid and collapsed onto the floor, his vision growing more dark and blurry. He registered that he could move his limbs now, but that fact was overpowered by pain. He didn't resist the blackness of unconsciousness when it finally came over him.

* * *

"Something's happened."

Faye paced the floor of the bridge, worry etched on her brow. Jet looked up from where he was seated at the control consol. "Gee, Faye, did you figure that out all on your own?" He responded sarcastically, gaining a death glare from Faye. "He said he'd be back an hour ago, and he hasn't radioed, and you didn't see anything on your flyby. I think it's pretty obvious something's happened. The only thing we need to figure out is what, and how do we get him out of trouble. Again." Jet finished with a frustrated sigh. Faye stopped pacing.

"Didn't he say he thought Halevi knew we were watching him? Maybe he did something."

"Ok, that's the most probable perp, but where did Halevi take him?" Faye looked down, once again at a loss. She started pacing again, running her hands through her hair in agitation.

"I think we might need some help with this, Jet." She stopped by the window and looked out over the dark desert. "It took us this long to even find the guy. We probably need to act fast in this case. Anyone who kidnaps Spike instead of killing him can't have good intentions on their mind."

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, if we can find her, Ed might be able to poke around enough..." Faye trailed off, unable to believe the words she had spoken. She was actually suggesting they go look for the lunatic girl and her dog? She must have fallen off of the edge of her sanity. Jet cleared his throat, drawing her from her thoughts.

"Well, we can try. It's not a bad idea, Faye. Ed would be able to hack into the core a lot faster than we ever could. Now we just have to find her." They both fell silent, contemplating their new dilemma. After a few minutes, Faye looked up, and idea piecing itself together in her mind.

"Maybe we can help her find us." Jet looked at her skeptically. "I mean, she was the one who found us originally, right? Maybe if we put a word, or a signal, out in space, letting her know we're looking for her, she'll find us."

Jet scratched his head in thought. "Well, it seems the best idea so far. Let's go ahead and do it."

* * *

An hour later, Faye had abandoned her pacing in favor of staring blankly out the window. Jet had nodded off in his seat fifteen minutes prior. In the silence, Faye's mind wandered, as a mind would tend to do. Thousands of scenarios crisscrossed her contemplation about the situation, ranging from being too late and finding Spike dead, all the way to finding him alive and well and them getting off with 50 million in their pockets. She was consistently on the verge of running off on her own to find him. She'd managed thus far to restrain herself, but without Jet to talk to and ground her, she was getting all the more antsy. Fortunately, the console in front of Jet beeped into life, startling her from her worrisome deliberations.

Jet woke to see a giant yellow face smiling at him from the console. A second later, the ship roared to life, and the two were knocked off balance as the Bebop flew haphazardly to the west twenty-some odd miles. It touched down again not-so-gracefully two minutes later, jarring Jet and Faye yet again. The two stared at each other in the following silence, Faye on her back covered in paper and debris, Jet tangled in the railing by his chair. The console clicked to life, revealing Edward's grinning face.

"Bebop is looking for Edward? Wheeee! Edward found Bebop!"

Jet started to untangle himself. "Ed, where are you?"

"Edward is here, Edward is here! Hee hee hee! Come outside, come outside!" The console clicked off. The two shrugged at each other and proceeded to the deck of the ship.

Once they stepped outside, they could just barely make out a small figure running towards them before it lunged itself onto Faye. She grunted under the weight of the now squealing girl and the dog upon her shoulders. "Faye Faye!" Ed jumped off of Faye and launched herself at Jet. "And Jet-person!" Jet grimaced and shook Ed off.

"Yeah, right, it's good to see you too Ed, but listen." Ed stopped all her squirming suddenly and stood stock still with wide eyes at Jet. "Uhh, yeah, listen Ed, we called you because we need your help."

"Edward can help uh-huh uh-huh." She grinned crazily at him. Before the two could get into a deeper discussion, Faye interrupted.

"Can we take this inside; it's freezing out here." She rubbed her arms for emphasis. Jet raised an eyebrow at her usual attire with a facetious comment on his tongue, thought better of it, and instead silently started towards the hanger door, Ed babbling in his wake. Faye forced out a sigh and followed slowly.

By the time she reached the common room, Ed was already busy tapping away as Jet told her everything he knew about their head and Spike's disappearance.

"And after Spike gave us his ETA and never showed up, Faye did a flyby and saw the Swordfish, but nothing else. We're thinking the lunkhead got himself kidnapped by Halevi. You got anything yet, Ed?"

"Oohhh ooo hoo hoo wee ooo, Ed needs silence, a moment, muito obrigado!" Jet shared an exasperated look with Faye, then settled himself down on the couch to wait. Faye joined him a minute later. Several minutes passed. Ein sat beside Faye on the floor for a moment, and proceeded to lick her hand. She yanked it away. "Ein!" He gave her a perfect innocent look, then walked back to where Ed was busy. Ten seconds later he jumped back as Ed threw her hand in the air with a happy squeal. "Ed found it!"

Jet jumped up simultaneously with Faye and wrestled with her on the way to the computer screen, each trying to occupy the same space and failing miserably. "Well Ed?" Jet asked hurriedly

In a mock French accent, Ed happily explained "Spike-person is here," she pointed to a blip on the screen in the middle of a crude topographical map, "a small bunker under the old city."

"That's great Ed," Jet exclaimed happily, "can you figure out how to get him out?"

Ed tapped two keys with much bravado, triumphantly exclaiming "Done, and done!" A set of blueprints came onto the screen. Jet studied them, then looked to Faye with a daring smile. "Alright, let's go get him."

* * *

It was with great reluctance that Spike came out of his trauma-induced slumber. The pain hit him instantly, cutting his emerging groan short into shallow breaths. He heard humming behind him to his right, and figured that was what had roused him. He hissed as another blaze of pain raced though him. He raised his bound hands to his face to try and assess the damage. The swollen eyes were obvious before he'd even grazed over them, but he distinctly felt the crushed bones of his face and nose, the broken jaw and loose teeth, as well as the deep welts that had only just started to clot. A low chuckle replaced the humming, and he forced his eyes open into slits to see Halevi sitting on the chair behind him.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr. Spiegel." Halevi rose and walked to the side, out of his range of vision. He then felt two arms lift him under the shoulders and drag him to the chair. Before he could be set down though, Spike kicked out at whom he recognized as Hardig, breaking the man's nose. Out of reflex, Hardig released Spikes arms, leaving Spike falling to the floor. In a split second Spike was back up, kicking Hardig at the top of his back, bringing the large man down to his knees. Spike then delivered a hard kick to the side of his head, knocking him out cold. Then he turned towards Halevi, disregarding the calm look the smaller man was displaying. With a kya Spike lunged for the blonde, only to be stopped short by an intense, blinding pain radiating from his left calf muscle. He fell to a kneel, grasping the offending leg in a vain effort to stop the pain. And then, as quickly as it started, the pain subsided. Panting, Spike looked up through tear-filled eyes at Halevi as the blonde was putting away some sort of remote. He tossed as sadistic smile at Spike. "I'm sorry Mr. Spiegel, but I can't let you go, at least not that easily." He chuckled and paced to the door. "Mr. Morris, will you please take Hardig somewhere where he will be more comfortable." After Morris had come and gone, dragging out the unconscious guard, Halevi turned an almost fond eye to Spike.

"As I'm certain you've ascertained, Mr. Spiegel, I took the liberty of implanting a…device, to control you, as you are quite an unpredictable man." Spike glared at the man as best as he could with a broken face, but the effect was lost nonetheless. Halevi chuckled. "In any case, I wanted to speak with you a bit more, Mr. Spiegel."

"What, ung," Spike paused with the pain from his jaw, "what is it you want, exactly?"

"I suppose, I want to have my way with you a bit, before I take your life. Like a cat with a mouse. I'm afraid I've lost my humanity somewhere along the way. Hmph, better it's gone." He turned and paced the short length of the room, hands folded behind his back and appearing contemplative. Spike waited with annoyance. At last Halevi spoke through the door, "Mr. Morris will you please bring me a cc of serum 37." After Morris had once again come and gone, Halevi fingered the syringe and walked back towards Spike, a slow sadistic smile slowly broadening on his face. He stopped in front of where Spike was still kneeling on the ground.

"Well then, Mr. Spiegel, before I begin, I suppose I should give you a little history about me."

"I already know enough." Spike dealt out coolly.

"Ah," Halevi began happily, "I humbly disagree, my dear sir. You see, if you know the history, perhaps eventually, you'll feel as much pain as I have, and then, maybe, you'll understand."

"You think you're alone in the world for suffering? Everyone has problems, Halevi. Some people have suffered even more than you have."

Halevi tensed, his calm performance beginning to disintegrate. "No, no! No one knows my pain, no one. It is the pain of the walking dead, Mr. Spiegel. No one could even imagine what it is I go through every day."

"Psh, and Faye called _me_ the drama queen." Halevi curled his hands into fists, then hastily reached into his jacket pocket, withdrawing the metal rod and, with a flick of his wrist, extended it to its full length. Pointing it at Spike with bared teeth, he attempted to control his breathing. Spike stared back coolly. With a final deep breath, Halevi composed himself, and returned the rod to his pocket. He let loose a small smile. "No, not yet, Mr. Spiegel. You still have to hear the story."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Could we skip the boring part and just get right to it? I'm not in the mood."

"I promise, sir, we'll get there, I beg for your patience." Spike rolled his eyes once again. Halevi ignored him, and continued. "As I've told you before, Mr. Spiegel, I was a drug dealer. Not the most noble of work, indeed, but it was the best pay available. Despite my advanced degrees in chemistry and bioengineering, no one would even look my way. A result of the universe we live in, I'm afraid. Work is still hard to come by, even these days. In any case, to support my family, I was forced to deal. I managed to use my education to come up with new products, which kept my customers returning. I thought I'd really made it when I was contacted by the Dragons. Never could I have been more wrong."

Spike let out a yawn, which was cut short by the shot of pain his jaw awarded him. "Yeah, yeah, they all died, and you brooded in a corner until you finally got the guts to take me on. Can we just get on with it?" Halevi frowned at Spike, then continued on, much to Spike's ever-increasing annoyance.

"After that day, after I had healed my physical wounds, I returned to the only comfort left to me; my work. And work I did, eventually getting out of drugs and moving onto supply of," he paused and smirked at Spike, "of what I affectionately refer to as liquid torture."

Spike chuckled. "Like a bad night out at the bars, right?"

Halevi returned the chuckle. "No sir, I'm afraid not, as you will soon find out." With that Halevi finally bent down, syringe in hand. Quick as a flash, Spike head-butted him under the chin, knocking him backwards. He hastily started fumbling in his pockets for the remote, but Spike was quicker, doling out a series of kicks to Halevis face. Spike left the near-unconscious Halevi slumped in the corner and ran to the door, looking for a way to get out. The empty steel surface laughed back at him. He kicked at the door in frustration, then lifted his brow in surprise when the door began to swing inwards. He hid behind it as Morris stepped in, whose attention was immediately drawn to the slumped form of his superior in the corner. Before he had time to turn, Spike had kicked him in the back of the head, knocking him out.

Not wasting a moment, Spike sprinted out into a dark, musty hallway. He closed the door behind him, locking in the two men. The hallway went in two directions, neither looking more promising than the other. Spike made a guess and sprinted off to the left, passing by many locked doors. The hallway resembled the basement of an archaic building; bare bulbs on the ceiling delivered a low light, and water dripped from the walls, leaving puddles at random spots on the floor. Spike ignored all this, instead focusing on trying to find a way out. Each door he tried denied him, and his frustration was mounting. After about five minutes of frantic sprinting, he finally found a staircase leading up. Unfortunately, before he could step onto the first step, his lower body started to go numb. Looking down, he plucked the small needle from where it had struck his hip; a moment later his knees buckled, and an exasperated 'Fuck!' left his mouth as he crumpled to the ground.

Spike lay on the floor, completely aware but unable to make his muscles work. Heavy footsteps were walking up behind him, and soon an unfamiliar face peered at him from above. He was grabbed and slung over the shoulder of what he could only assume was another guard. He briefly wondered how many people were under the employ of Halevi. After fifteen minutes, the guard shouldered him off, and Spike found himself back in the steel room on the chair with Halevi standing before him, gazing coolly and nursing the few large bruises forming on his face.

"Well, Mr. Spiegel, you have proven yourself quite the obstinate pest. I was going to begin slowly with you. A bit of pain, nothing too bad. I wanted to milk you for all you were worth. But for my amusement, I'm going to move onto something very special. The story must be continued though. You see, I worked on these new drugs and received good business from, darker types of people. Eventually the government took notice of my talents. They employed me and sent me to Titan. There, I experimented on innocent soldiers. Some would be disturbed by this. But, because of you, Mr. Spiegel, I had become heartless, and I did my work without thought. What fantasies those men must have witnessed…hmm, most of them died eventually, too lost in their delusions to take care of themselves. In any case, Mr. Spiegel, you will get to experience what those few lucky fellows have. This particular cocktail will have a few surprises, so be prepared."

Spike would have retorted but for his paralyzed tongue. Instead, he was forced to watch Halevi inject him in the bicep. As the cool liquid circulated, he started to feel odd. At first his arm started to feel warm at the site of the injection; this soon escalated into a fiery pain, like thousands of fire ants stinging over and over, spreading along his arm and shoulder, then his neck and torso. Soon his whole body was encased in it; his mind was telling him to shake off the ants that he could not see, but no movement came. Only a slight widening of the eyes and a low groan that would've been a scream.

Eventually, small things floated into the edges of his vision, nothing staying long enough for him to ascertain what they were. As the pain escalated, his eyes darted down, and then he saw them. The ants. Thousands of ants were crawling over him, biting and digging into his clothing an exposed skin. His heart raced. He wanted so desperately to shake them off and run, but he remained seated. The ants were growing in size as he watched. They crawled onto his face, blocking his vision. One in particular caught his attention, mostly because its outline seemed to be fluctuating. It suddenly morphed into a larger shape folded on the floor. The rest of the ants remained, biting all the while. The figure unfolded itself, and from the floor rose a corpse, complete with rotting, blood-covered flesh and unseeing eyes. Its cold hands reached and wrapped around his neck, tightening slowly until he could barely breathe. His mouth opened as he gagged, and immediately the troops of fire ants fled into the orifice, stinging all the while. He could feel them going down and radiating out. Soon they were poking underneath his skin, small bulges rising and falling as they moved beneath the surface. His heart beat ever faster, his breath coming in short wheezes for the hands around his neck and ants swarming in. He grew lightheaded from his shallow breathing, and closed his eyes, wishing for the terror to end. Ants crawled behind his eyelids, their legs prickling his eyeballs. Soon the hyperventilation took its toll, and the ants followed his unconsciousness, continuing to terrorize him in his dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Ha, made my own deadline, sa-weet! School is really picking up now though, so next update won't be for a while.** **And sorry if the grammar isn't superb in this chappie either; I just wanted to get it out, didn't want to mess with beta readers or anything. Hope ya'll like this one; please R&R, just so I know you like it. And again, I would love concrit. Oh yeah, eventually I'm going to go back and fix a few errors on the first chappie, like the 'Viscous Vicious' thing ;). Eventually, when my head isn't plunged in blood, urine, and feces like it is now.  
**

* * *

"It should be here." Faye ran a hand through her hair in frustration. She and Jet were standing in a deserted city, peering at the ruins of one of many dilapidated buildings where, supposedly, Spike had been taken. "I don't get it Jet; this isn't what I was expecting. There's no one here." A worried crinkle grew deeper on her brow.

"Just because we don't see anyone, doesn't mean he's not there. They might not be expecting us. Ed said he was in a bunker, so that's probably where he is. There might be a trap door or something; we should go check it out." Faye looked at his profile dubiously before shrugging and tilting her head in the direction of the brown, one-story building 100 yards away.

"Lead the way."

* * *

Jesse Angivare was bored. After sitting at his security post for almost eight straight hours with nothing but a cold, windy desert and a decaying city to keep him company, he was beginning to regret taking this job. His mind drifted from one thought to another. 'True, the benefits are great,' he thought to himself, 'but are great benefits worth sitting on your butt for hours on end on the roof of some building that's probably going to collapse any second?' He checked his watch every thirty seconds, and had almost convinced himself that time was moving backwards, when movement caught his eye. Two figures were approaching the building to the right of the one he was sitting on. Raising his weapon's scope to his eye, he observed the man and woman with curiosity, because, given the abandoned state of the city, he hadn't really expected anyone to come by. The two entered the building, and after a minute, Angivare lowered his gun and called his new boss on the radio.

Halevi stood over the crumpled form of Spike, the latter of which had slid from the chair after losing consciousness. He had expected to enjoy watching the man be tortured, but was disappointed and concerned when he felt nothing. He grit his teeth the more he thought about it. All these years, and he still felt numb! Even when he was finally getting revenge on the one responsible! With a low growl, he gave Spike a kick in the gut for good measure, smiling a little when the fallen man grunted a bit as he rolled over. A tap came from the door, and one of Halevi's security guards stepped in.

"Sir, I have just received word from one of my men stationed on the perimeter post that two people have entered the building ground-level."

"Ah, at last, at last!" Halevi exclaimed excitedly. "A man and a woman I presume?" The guard nodded. "Oh, this is wonderful news." Halevi clapped his hands together. "Get some help, and we'll move Mr. Spiegel here to someplace a little more discreet. We have to give his friends a taste of the fun, after all." He chuckled to himself and motioned to the guard to get moving. The man saluted, and ran down the corridor to comply. Halevi moved towards the exit, but stopped and turned before leaving. "Oh my, Mr. Spiegel, we'll teach them a lesson for being friends with a murderer like you."

* * *

Cracking an eye open, Spike awoke to find himself a curled ball enveloped in a dark void. He breathed a sigh of relief; the ants had gone, the ants that he kept trying to convince himself weren't real. For the moment, he was left in non-sensing darkness. He rolled himself onto his back and stared. He felt incredibly exhausted. After a few minutes, his ear perked. Somewhere to the right of him there was a muffled sound, like a voice through a damaged speaker. He tiredly rolled his head in that general direction, but could still see nothing but black. He blinked, and then he could see formless shapes in dim colors. Two shapes in particular were right above him, long, straight and dark. His mind registered somewhere that someone was standing over him. He blinked again, and the legs were gone, replaced by a starry night framed by a dark canopy of trees. His senses rejoiced at having a job to do again. The smell of the damp earth was strong and peaty; the cool moist ground beneath his back soothed his tired muscles, and also chilled him to the bone. A harsh wind blew through the trees and dived into his skin, increasing the emerging shivers. He was suddenly very uncomfortable, and sat up with his arms wrapped around himself to keep warm.

An ever-present feeling of unease grew in him the more he sat. He felt close to hysterics. Surely the worst was over? He knew he was still wrapped up in Halevi's nightmare-world, but the ants had been too much in itself. He waited with apprehension. And sure enough, his luck smacked him in the face and ran off mooning him. A twig snapped from behind. One slow, measured turn later, Spike was looking at a good excuse for his apprehension. A large crowd stood before him, full of expressionless faces. At the forefront of the group, was Julia; to her flank, Vicious. Of course they would be in his torture-dream. Spike rolled his eyes, knowing full-well that once again Halevi was going to come at him. Julia stepped forward. It was then Spike noticed her eyes; instead of the pale cerulean he'd loved to stare into, they were pitch-black. And, gazing over the crowd, he noticed that all the other people had the same feature. And that they were all bloody from different wounds. It dawned on him then; these were people that he had killed, or had been involved in the killing of. Humph. Well that just makes it a perfect hell, doesn't it?

With her face contorted into deep, ugly lines, she spoke in a grated, unearthly voice. "Are we here because of him, or because of you? Do you really have no regrets, Spike?"

Spike's eyebrows pinched together in confusion, but he didn't have long to ponder her words. With a chilling scream, she and the others rushed at him. His eyes popped open in shock a split second before he sprang up and sprinted away. Spike had always been a fast runner, had even prided himself at the fact. But this crowd kept up and gained. They weaved in and out of the trees, the rumble of their footsteps mingling in the air with their screeches. He couldn't see them, but he heard them, felt them. And he knew that their intent upon catching him was not a good one.

'They're toying with me' he thought in annoyance. He increased his speed, but they stayed on him. He could feel one right behind him. It had only to reach out and he would be theirs, but it did not. He grumbled. His legs burned. His lungs screamed for air, but he kept going. And then, the world beneath his feet crumbled away, the presence behind drifted away, and he was then free-falling into the black void. He landed hard on his back, but instead of pain he felt nothing but relief that the chase was over. He breathed harshly until he'd caught his breath. Once again, his senses were deprived; though the emptiness around him was a blessing. After relishing in it for a minute or two, he become bored, and considered finding a way out of this dream-world. He started to get up, but was caught short as his head smashed into a hard surface. "Oh what now!?" He yelled into the empty space. He attempted to reach a hand to rub his head, but again, was caught short when his hand smacked into something hard beside him. Starting to feel a slight panic, he felt all around him, feeling something akin to wood on all sides of him and below. 'Yep, definitely in a box, coffin more like it' he thought grimly. His muscles started tensing in anxiety, but before panic could take hold, he took a deep breath, and reminded himself his mantra. 'Whatever happens, happens'. And with that thought, he closed his eyes and finally allowed his exhaustion to overtake him. He promptly went to sleep.

* * *

Jet and Faye entered the old building with weapons raised, only to be greeted by an empty room. At least, empty of people. It looked like it used to be a restaurant/diner combo, with a bar up front and checkered tables on the floor. Of course, as everything was so covered in dust and grime, the identity of the place was lost, and it was simply an abandoned building to the two hunters. Waving her gun around and finding nothing, Faye let her arms fall to her sides. She shot Jet an annoyed look. "Well?"

Jet looked annoyed as well, mostly at Faye, to whom he returned to glare. "Well what? Ed said he was underground. Stop looking at me and start looking for some way to get there!" Faye stuck out a lip and crossed her arms, but did as she was told. The two branched out in the small space. Only two minutes later, Faye yelled to Jet "Here!"

Jet walked over to where she was standing. The dust had been disturbed immensely in an area at the back, where the kitchen probably was at some point. Jet scanned the floor, before finally letting his eyes rest on the gem of the search: a small cellar door at the back wall. Smiling devilishly, he sauntered over and reached down to take the handle in his left hand. Glancing at Faye, who had her weapon out and pointed to the door, ready for anything, he fingered his gun in his right hand, silently counted to three, then hefted the door up, bringing his weapon to point in an instant. Nothing. Faye twitched in aggravation, but said nothing as she followed Jet down a set of wood stairs.

Three flights of steps later, they were standing in a basement corridor. An empty basement corridor. Faye sighed in exasperation. Jet shot her another annoyed glance. "What? This is pretty hot, Faye. I don't know what you're complaining about. He should be down here somewhere."

"Well, why isn't there any security then, Jet? If Spike was down here, we should have gotten some resistance by now."

"Yeah…" Jet's eyes turned down for a moment. It was odd, that was for sure. He looked up towards the dim corridor before them. "Well, we'll just have to be extra cautious." Faye nodded curtly, and the two started at a slow jog. Lining to walls were locked doors. They managed to open them with a few solid kicks, each time expecting to see their comrade before them. Each time they were disappointed; either the room was empty, or it had an old skeleton in tattered clothing in a pile at one corner or another. Not one person showed up to resist their search. It was as if the whole place was deserted.

Fifteen minutes and countless doors later, they came to a different door. This one was lined with steel, and, even more interesting, was unlocked and left open a crack. Jet peered through and could see nothing aside from a metal chair. He nudged the door open more with his toe, and gun first, stepped inside. He spun to point his weapon at the space behind the door, but there was no one there to challenge him. He scanned the room, Faye doing the same. At last his eyes fell on a small pool of dark blood near the chair. Crouching down beside it, he stuck the tips of his finger into in, much to the disgust of Faye. He glanced up at her. "It's cool, but I'm pretty sure it's his. I think it's about four or five hours old."

"About two hours after he disappeared, yeah." Faye scratched her head. "So, he was here. Where is he now?" Jet frowned in thought. Faye scanned the room once more, before an idea struck her. She moved to the chair and started trying to lift the heavy thing. Jet got up to assist. With a loud screech, they managed to move it a few inches to the right. Jet smiled. Where the legs had been were small handles, and now that those were seen, he could make out an almost-invisible line connecting them: another trap door. They shared a look of triumph, and then assumed similar positions to the ones that they had had in the diner kitchen. With a heave by Jet, the two rushed down into a wooden room lit by a bare bulb on the ceiling. Surrounding them were stores and provisions. But before they had a chance to take in their surroundings any more, the light flicked off. A sultry voice glided from the steps.

"Welcome to the party, sir and madam."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So sorry about how long this took to get up. I lost motivation for the story for a long time and didn't have any desire to pick it back up. That was until I watched the entire series three times through over winter break ;). Then I got real excited! Sorta. I'm not sure if this story will be continued or not, we'll see. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Welcome to the party, sir and madam."

Jet spun and pointed his weapon blindly in the direction where the voice had come. What he saw surprised him. Instead of a man, he could just make out a small, white speaker mounted on the wall. He lowered his gun slightly. "Hey, why don't you be a man and show yourself instead of hiding?"

Chuckles leaked through the box. "But that would be rather foolish, now wouldn't it, Mr. Black?" Jet's eyes widened slightly at the sound of his name. "I know my limitations, and I know your strengths. You see, I know you would be able to beat me in a fight as we are now. I have to even the playing field a bit, so that we can have a fair skirmish. Understand?" The speaker crackled a bit.

"I understand now that you're a true coward. And how exactly do you know who I am?"

"Oh, I know all about you. I even know things about you that…_you_ don't even know."

Jet bristled. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"All in good time, sir. Now, for the moment, I would suggest the both of you sit down for a while and take a few deep breaths. Hot heads won't get you anywhere anymore."

"You're crazy if you think I'm just gonna sit here like an idle pet and wait for you! What the hell have you done with Spike?"

The speaker stayed silent.

"Hey!" Jet yelled in frustration before heaving a deep sigh and turned in the general direction of Faye. Faye had been shuffling in her pockets during the exchange, and as Jet turned to her, she pulled out her lighter and flicked it on. The two hunters blinked in the sudden light, but as they adjusted, they began to study their surroundings.

"Where are we exactly, Jet?" Faye inquired. She was examining a large wooden box on the floor by the far wall.

"Well, I imagine this whole bunker was at some time some kind of shelter, you know, in case of disaster or something. This was probably a room to keep food and the like." He paused to pick a can off of a nearby shelf. "See, look here," he pointed to faint writing on the side, "the expiration date on this is way before the gate accident. These are all provisions that somebody stockpiled over a hundred years ago." He set the can down and walked towards the trap door.

Faye straightened and put a hand on her hip. "I wonder what was so horrible that people felt they had to make a place like this." She then pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. Jet came back over and sat down, causing Faye to look over at him with an eyebrow raised. Jet shrugged at her.

"Well, I just tried the trap door and it's locked. There doesn't seem to be any other exit. I think it would be best if we sat down and regrouped for a bit."

Faye huffed, but ended up sitting as well. The two stared at the ground, both lost in their thoughts. At least until an odd sound made them look up at each other. The expression they shared confirmed that the other had indeed heard it. "Jet, did you…?" Faye started, but stopped when she heard it again. "Hear a snore…?" Jet finished for her. The two simultaneously and methodically turned their heads towards the box that Faye was examining earlier. A snore came from it again. They glanced at each other, then Faye got up and walked to the box. Another snore. She knocked on the top apprehensively. A snort followed by a snore came from inside. She examined the length of the box until she came to a cheap lock that was keeping the box closed. She glanced at Jet once, then used her heel to break the lock. The top came off, and revealed a sleeping Spike.

Several emotions swept across Faye's face in a matter of seconds, ranging from relief, to confusion, to annoyance, and finally to anger. Jet saw all this and held his breath for the show that was about to begin. Faye bared her teeth.

"HOW CAN YOU SLEEP AT A TIME LIKE THIS YOU STUPID LUNKHEAD AFTER ALL THAT WE'VE GONE THOUGH AND HERE YOU ARE SLEEPING ALL THAT WORRY AND YOU'RE _SLEEPING!!!!_"

Spike's eyes popped open. He let out a terrified yelp and scrambled out of the box, only to fall face-first onto the ground beside it. He turned and scooted on his backside away from the fuming Faye, his eyes still blurred with sleep, and now confusion and fear. He ran into something warm, and looked behind to see Jet grinning at him.

"Uh, uh, Jet?"

"Hey Spike, how ya doing?"

Spike blinked several times at Jet, then at Faye. "What are you…how did you…did…Halevi catch you guys too?" Faye's hands were on her hips and a nasty look of annoyance was on her face. As she took in his broken face though, her stance softened a bit.

"So what happened to your face, Spike?"

Spike's face hardened. "Halevi happened to it. Turns out the man has a thing for me."

"What do you mean?" Jet asked from behind him.

"I mean, he has a grudge, a bad one. Turns out we have some history, though I don't remember him. He's been stewing over something for the past six years. This bounty was all his idea."

Faye's eyes widened. "You mean, the person I spoke to, the data chip…."

"That's right; it was all a set up. The guy you talked to was probably paid to be convincing, and the huge bounty was of course going to draw us in." He sighed and rubbed his jaw. "And now, here we are. I guess your plan was to rescue me, eh? Somehow I get the impression it's not going so well."

Jet crossed his arms and looked sour. "Playing that card isn't going to help us get out of this situation Spike. We have to be constructive."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

Jet scratched his head. "Uh, well, when he comes in, which he'll have to do eventually, we storm the door and make a break for it. When we came down, there wasn't any security."

"Hmm, that's funny, because the time I tried that before, there were guards everywhere and I ended up getting a nasty headache and one hell of a bad dream. Oh, and apparently, locked in a box."

Faye piped in. "In any case, the only exit is locked, so we have no choice but to sit here and wait for it open. The three of us might have a better chance at getting out than one. Maybe we could split…up." She paused, wobbling a bit.

"You alright Faye?" Jet inquired. Faye dropped to her knees. It was then that Spike's ears perked to the sound of soft hissing.

"Aw damnit! The room's been filling with gas." He brought a hand to his eyes as the room started spinning.

"Well," Jet started, "I guess that was why he wanted us to sit down." He passed out, Spike and Faye immediately following suit.

* * *

"Oh Mr. Spiiiieegel…"

Spike slowly opened his eyes to the sing-song voice. Staring at the blurry feet of his abductor, he managed to slur out "Honestly Halevi, how many more times are you going to knock me out tonight?" He smirked a bit at his comment.

"There is no limit, I'm afraid. It's like I was telling your friend here," Spike looked up at this and found himself back in the steel-lined room, with Faye and Jet tied up across from him, still unconscious, "the playing field has to be leveled. You need a handicap. Being tied and drugged is as good as any."

"You damn coward. What the hell do you have them here for!? If you have a grudge against me, take it out on me. Let them go."

"Ha, I find it very amusing that you think you're in a position to make demands." He turned and crouched down near where Jet was tied in a chair. "Oh Mr. Blaa-aaack." He said in the same sing-song voice as before. After a moment, Jet's eyes opened. His body twitched when he realized his situation.

"Wh…what the hell is goin'on?!" He managed to get out despite his drugged tongue and fogged mind.

"Well, I have a little gift for your partner here. Seeing as how I don't want Mr. Spiegel to die just yet, I think it would be best to give his body some time to recuperate before I have my way with him again. But that doesn't mean my fun stops there. Oh no. Did you know, Mr. Black, that you've been partnered to a cold-blooded murderer, one who will take the lives of an innocent without thought?"

Jet sighed, and remembered when they had gone after some petty crooks at a convenience store. When one of the thieves had a hostage at gunpoint and demanded they drop their weapons, Spike aimed it instead. Jet still wasn't sure what had gone on in his partners mind in that moment. He had toed a very thin, dangerous line. Jet looked back to Halevi and tried to piece together his current thoughts on the matter. "Sometimes the job requires us to make sacrifices."

Eugene bristled for a moment. "And what is more important to you, eh, what do you think is universally more important, getting the job done or allowing an innocent person to live!? The answer is no question. There is no reason an innocent should turn victim. There is no reason that," his voice started to break with held back sobs, "that my Sharon and little Amira should have become victims." He took a breath and composed himself. "And that murderer will pay for his crimes against humanity. And you," he paused and smiled that cool, dangerous smile, "you get to take part and help right this terrible, terrible wrong."

Jet's brow furrowed a bit. Halevi reached into his pocket and took out a capped syringe and a small vial of colorless fluid. "Now, as Mr. Spiegel knows, I am not one for conventional torture. But my liquid torture does just the trick. Do you know what it feels like to drown, Mr. Black?" Jet glared at him, not answering. "Hmmm," Halevi continued. "No? Well, you will soon find out. This is my serum number 15. I'm particularly proud of it. There really isn't a feeling quite like drowning, you know. In any case, let's begin."

"Halevi!" Spike shouted. "I know what you're trying to do, and you can go ahead and forget it. Torturing them won't matter. You won't kill me; you would have done it by now, no matter what you say about 'having your way with me'. But if you go ahead with your little plan, then I will kill _you_!"

"Ha ha! And how exactly will you do that sir? You're tied in such a way that you cannot get loose. And if you think I won't kill you, you're sorely mistaken. The device I implanted in your leg will release a neurotoxin if you leave the compound, or if you try to remove it. I've made sure that, even if I am too much of a humanitarian to kill, you will die, one way or another. And without any more ado, let's get started!"

He uncapped the syringe and inserted the needle into the vial, and turning the unit upside down, drew back a milliliter of the fluid. Then, after removing the syringe, he tapped it and squirted out a small portion. Halevi deliberately took his time, seeing Jet grow more anxious the longer he took. Finally he stuck the needle into Jets upper left arm and injected the fluid.

For a moment nothing happened. Then Jet started to twitch, then thrash, at least as well as he could being tied. His eyes went wider and wider, and he started to wheeze and gasp. His back arched and his head strained backwards. At last, after several minutes, he let out a long, strained groan, breathed in a huge breath, then released it in coughing sputters. His eyelids then drooped, and he went limp. Spike growled, but said nothing. Halevi watched the slender man with anticipation, but did not see the reaction he had wanted. Desperately, the blonde tried to egg Spike on. "Do you feel no remorse, no sorrow, for your partner, Mr. Spiegel? You know first hand how terrifying my illusions can be." Spike remained silent, staring at Jet. Halevi snarled, and whipped out another syringe and vial. He injected Jet again, but this time, the large man took in a huge breath, and while coughing, looked around with confusion.

"Yes, yes, I know Mr. Black. You are no longer trying to breathe water. For the moment, you are saved." Halevi said sarcastically. "I imagine, if you had a choice, you wouldn't want to experience that again, eh?" Jet simply narrowed his eyes and remained silent. Halevi threw his arms up in exasperation. "You men. So stoic, so honorable," he kept his sarcastic tone, "so coolheaded! Well, perhaps the lady will speak. She is quite a bit more talkative anyway." He started towards her, but stopped when a strange sound became apparent. Spike looked at Jet confusedly, and Jet returned the look. The odd whirring got louder and louder. Halevi was rapidly losing his cool. "Where the hell is that coming from!?" He grabbed his radio from his pocket and pushed the talk button. "Morris, Shepherd, what is that noise?" The whirring got very loud indeed. Spike was looking towards the open door, and raised his eyebrows in immense surprise when the perpetrator of the noise showed itself. Of all things, he certainly hadn't been expecting that.

EARLIER

Jesse Angivare was bored again. He had no idea whatsoever of the excitement he had caused. After he had made the call to his new boss, he was told to resume his surveillance duty. Once again he was trying to convince himself that time was still moving forward, and once again he was weighing the pros and cons of his job, when a very subtle whirring made him look over the side of the building where he was seated. He saw nothing on the ground, but the whirring was now more distinct. He looked through the scope of his weapon, sweeping his gaze along the ground. At last, he rested it on the door of the old restaurant. He thought for a moment he saw something, but he couldn't report that. Not in a million years! He'd be laughed back into unemployment! He shook the thought out of his head. 'Must've been my imagination running away with me.' He thought to himself. 'Been sittin' up here too long, Jesse! They should give you more breaks. Yeah, that's what you need, a break.' He chuckled to himself and resumed his watch.

* * *

"Morris, Shepherd, Hardig, hello!? Anyone!!" Halevi turned away from the door and started fiddling with his radio. "Damn thing…ungh, damn thing must be broken," he started to take it apart, "must be, jammed." He continued to mutter to himself, completely oblivious to anything else. So oblivious, in fact, that he didn't notice the whirring get louder until just before he felt a great pressure on the back of his neck and 50,000 volts go through his body. His body went limp and fell to the floor.

Spike grinned as broadly as he could with a broken jaw. He watched the little remote-controlled Bebop fly away from Halevi's fallen form over to Jet. A small knife extended from where it was mounted next to a camera where, presumably, Ed was watching, and sliced through the rope holding Jet's hands together. Jet untied his legs and started untying Faye and waking her as the little Bebop sliced Spike's bindings. It then lifted up, and exited the room. Spike smirked when it left. "So Ed came back? All on her own?" Jet grumbled something incoherent. Spike laughed. "I'm touched Jet, I had no idea you guys were that worried about me."

"Whatever Spike, just help me wake her up."

Jet had been gently slapping Faye and shaking her. Spike sauntered over, leaned towards her ear, and whispered something Jet couldn't make out. The next second, both men were jumping backwards out of Faye's swinging fists. "Say it again you lunkhead, say it again! I'll cripple you!"

"Boy Jet, we should have left her tied." Faye started to fluster, but then composed herself.

"Spike, you're lucky I'm a refined lady and can restrain myself."

"Yeah sure Faye." Faye narrowed her eyes in anger and opened her mouth to speak, but Jet interrupted.

"Let it rest you two! Leave it for when we get back to the Bebop." Spike stared straight ahead for a moment, then looked at Halevi.

"Give me a minute Jet, I have a promise to uphold," he said with a vicious smirk.

"Spike! We don't have time…"

"Then go!" Spike cut him off. "Go and I'll catch up! I can take care of myself."

"Obviously…" Faye muttered under her breath. Spike glared at her.

"Jet, just go, I'll catch up." Jet looked at Spike seriously.

"A man has to make up his own mind. Spike, just be sure it's the right thing to do before you do it, alright?" Jet hooked an arm around Faye's waist and tugged her out the door, Faye complaining and trying to stop him all the while. Spike listened until he couldn't hear her anymore, then looked back to Halevi.

'The right thing to do. What did he mean by that?' Spike wondered. Julia's haunting voice came to his mind. 'Do you really have no regrets, Spike?' Spike shrugged, and walked over to the fallen man. He used his toe to roll Halevi onto his back. The small man opened his eyes slightly and smiled.

"Well, I see, I see we have come full circle. You are now going to take my life. You are now, going to finish the job you started all those years ago. And still, I see no regret in your eyes. Nothing but cold. A cold heart. And you're not even under orders this time." Halevi coughed slightly. "But, what is that? I see, there is, something different. Something…but what is it? Is it, indecision? Something, ah, that something is all that I wanted. Ha, yes, Spike, you can finish it now. I have what I need." He closed his eyes; apparently he'd passed out again.

Spike was indecisive. He knew that if he didn't do it, Halevi would probably come back to haunt him. And he also knew, that if he did do it, Halevi would still come back to haunt him in his dreams. Spike's head swam with little words, little bits of advice and last words of people he'd been with before they took their last breath. At last they stopped at one phrase in particular, one from a man in a boy's body. 'I feel so heavy,' he had said, 'but I feel, I finally feel at ease. Do you understand?'.

"No…" Spike backed away from Halevi. "No, I think you're done with me." He turned to walk out the door.

Halevi listened to the fading footsteps. When he couldn't make them out anymore, he smiled.

"And now, Spike, now you will die."

* * *

The minute Spike walked through that steel door, it seemed as if a huge weight had lifted from him. Perhaps it really was possible to learn to live with his past, as bloody as it was. He breathed a long breath, and started his trek back to the surface. He passed knocked-out guards that littered the hall: Ed had done a good job. He hardly paid them mind, his thoughts occupied him at the moment.

Maybe he did have regrets about his past. Maybe a lot of the nightmare wasn't just Halevi's doing. His own guilt was giving him bad dreams. It seemed as if the conscience he thought he'd lost was coming back. Whether or not that was a good thing…he still had to figure that out.

Halevi's threat about a neurotoxin hadn't left his mind either. While Spike was fairly certain the spineless man was just bluffing, he couldn't be completely sure. It took a lot of guts to kill a person, whether directly or indirectly. Well, he rationalized, either guts or stupidity. And Halevi didn't seem too unintelligent. He was at least sane enough to know when to stop.

By the time Spike had reached the stairs, he had decided to not get ahead of himself. If a situation did arise, he would deal with it when it happened. That was how he worked best anyway. Instinct and impulse, as Jet so often reminded him. He smiled to himself, and started up.

* * *

Angivare was having second thoughts about reporting what he had seen. His shift was almost over, but no one had come to relieve him yet. Maybe it was because they had a situation? But then, he rationalized, his shift _was_ almost over. In fifteen minutes, it wouldn't be his problem. Suddenly his radio crackled beside him.

"If anyone is reading this, respond." It was a voice he had only heard from a distance, when his supervisor had spoken to _his_ boss over the phone during Angivare's interview. Halevi. That was his name.

"This is Angivare, outer perimeter surveillance."

"Angivare, good, listen, three people should be exiting a small building near you. Inform me of what happens when they do, please."

"Yes sir." He set his radio down and peered through his scope at the door to the little building. Sure enough, two minutes later, two men and a woman left. He picked up his radio. "Sir, the three people you specified just left. They are currently walking away from the building."

"Are you sure?" Halevi's voice started to sound strained. Slight murmurs leaked through the radio. "How could he be walking? Unless the device is malfunctioning. Perhaps when I used it, the trigger for the toxin disengaged…"

"Sir, I'm sorry, I couldn't make out much of that."

Halevi's voice came back strong. "It doesn't matter. Shoot them."

"Yes sir." Angivare raised his weapon and aimed at the thin man.

* * *

When Spike stepped out of the cellar door into the restaurant, he was surprised to find Faye and Jet waiting for him.

"I thought I said to go on without me." He said with annoyance. Jet crossed his arms.

"We went far enough. I hope you made the right decision, Spike."

"You know exactly what he did. The impulsive man needs destruction and casualties to make his day go by. He is a drama queen after all."

Jet raised his hand. "That's enough, Faye!" He looked Spike in the eye. "Well Spike, you did what you had to. I hope you can live with it."

"Yeah me too." Spike responded with a smirk. "Come on, let's get back, I'm hungry.

"Yeah, what else is new?" Faye said to herself.

Jet rolled his eyes and smirked, but said nothing and led them out of the building and into the afternoon sunlight. They walked in silence for a few minutes, until the peace was shattered by a gun shot. Spike let out a grunt and rolled to the ground, clutching his shin as blood poured out from between his fingers. Jet grabbed him and dragged him to a nearby alley. Faye had split from them and was now firing at the rooftop where the shot had come from. After four shots, she hit her mark, as an audible grunt came from above. Jet slung Spike's arm around his shoulder and sprinted away from the building, keeping low. Faye followed, keeping her weapon trained on the rooftop, although it seemed as if her last shot had been enough to put a permanent stop to the shooter.

The three sprinted to where the Hammerhead and Red Tail were parked two hundred yards away. Faye leapt into her Red Tail and took off. Jet took a little more time, helping Spike into the cockpit and wrapping a quick bandage around the wound. Spike turned a little green when he felt the small bits of his shattered shin bone move with the bandage, which was quickly becoming saturated with his blood.

"Ahh, I, ungh, I hope your doctor friend won't mind another house call." Spike managed to get out. He grimaced. Jet looked at Spike seriously.

"You didn't kill him, did you? Why else would someone be firing at us?"

Spike returned Jet's look. "I did what I had to do, Jet."

Jet appeared contemplative for a moment. Then he smiled. "It looks like the situation has reversed itself."

Spike looked alarmed. "What are you talking about…"

"Seems I have to do something. And I think I can do it. I think I can do it for you, Spike. For all of us."

"Jet, what, you better not be saying what I think…"

"Spike," Jet interrupted, "sit here for a minute, there's something I have to do." With that he nimbly jumped from the ship and raced towards where they had come.

"Jet, get the hell back here! Jet!" Spike started to get up, but gasped when he tried to put weight on his leg. He fell back into the cockpit in a heap. "Damnit Jet, you don't have to."

* * *

Forty minutes later, night had fallen swiftly, and Spike was feeling very lightheaded. The blood flow had stopped finally, though he was sure he had lost enough to warrant some concern. However, his only concern at that moment was with the slow footsteps that were approaching the Hammerhead. He found a pistol behind Jet's seat and shakily aimed in the direction of the steps. They stopped below him, and Spike could make out Jet's bulky form. He lowered the gun.

"Hey Spike, it's just me." He jumped up and settled himself into the pilot's seat. As the ship started up, Spike could make out a dark stain on Jet's right shoulder.

"You got shot?" Jet looked down at the injury, then back to what he was doing.

"It's not that serious, just a flesh wound. You, on the other hand," he paused and looked at Spike's pale, sweaty face, "you just might be a little more worrisome." Spike blinked slowly and let his head fall back. It would've been so easy to just close his eyes and sleep. He let his eyelids drag down, but Jet's curt voice made them jump up again. "Hey, now, stay awake. You know as well as I do that after losing that much blood, you should try to stay alert."

"Yeah right, I'm alert. Alive awake and alert." Spike slurred. His eyes started to close again, and this time, Jet's shouts couldn't stop them.

"Spike, hey…"

Jet sighed gravely, and he resigned himself to lifting off. Spike's body shifted a little beside him, but then he was still.

* * *

The familiar smell of the Bebop wafted into Spike's nostrils as awareness bit by bit came back to him. He opened his eyes to a well-known and much appreciated sight: the ceiling fan leisurely revolving above him. He slowly started to raise his upper body, and was about to swing his legs over, when he saw a large cast encumbering his right leg. He fingered it for a moment, then looked around and saw a pair of crutches leaning behind the couch. He grabbed them and rose. The sound of sizzling was coming from the kitchen area, and his stomach gave a great surge. He smirked, and hobbled up the stairs towards the growing smell of stir fry.

Jet was busy making food, his back turned to where Spike leaned against the door frame. "So how long was I out for?" Jet kept his back turned.

"About twelve hours or so. Doc fixed you up quick and sent us on our way. You had to get some stitches in your cheek, and he also put in some screws for your jaw. He said you'll be in that cast for a while, so I guess you're out of the game for a little bit longer." Spike grumbled.

"Oh well, guess that'll make Faye happy. Those peppers almost done? I'm starving."

"Yeah, almost, you go ahead and sit, I'll be there in a sec."

Spike turned and hobbled back to the couch, swinging his leg up onto the table and resting his arms on the back. Jet came in a moment later, balancing two plates in one hand, his other arm in a sling.

"How's your arm?" Spike inquired.

"Ah, it's fine, but Doc insisted I rest it for a few days." Jet set the plates down, then took the sling off and set it on the table. "Bunch of cock and bull if I ever heard it." He started to laugh, and Spike joined in. The door above them slid open, and Faye and Ed popped through, Ein right behind them.

"Wow, did _we_ miss something funny. Hey Jet, got any more peppers?"

"Go make your own, Faye, if you want them so badly." Faye made a small 'hmph', and sauntered in the direction of her room. Ed and Ein ran off to who-knows-where. Jet and Spike both ate in silence, each lost in his own thought.

Spike finished and put his plate down. "So, why did you go Jet? I could have dealt with Halevi on my own."

"Yeah sure, that busted up leg wouldn't have hindered you at all." Jet responded sarcastically. He sighed. "I went mainly to prove something to myself. It was worth it. Let's just leave it at that, ok?" Spike nodded and sat back with his arms behind his head. Jet studied him with a serious expression. "What exactly did Halevi do to you, Spike? The shot he gave me was pretty bad; I can only imagine what he gave to you."

"Well it was pretty bad, but I think I can live with it. I actually think it may have been good for me."

Jet scoffed. "You're nuts!" Spike smiled at him.

"Yeah, probably." He reached for his crutches and started to rise.

"Where you going?"

"I think I have a room somewhere on this ship. Since I'm going to be out of it for a while, I might as well go and try to find it."

Jet laughed. "Good luck with that. It'd be nice to see the couch vacant for a while."

Spike grinned slightly and started to hobble away. "Hey Spike, hold up for a sec." Spike stopped beside Jet's chair and looked at him curiously. "I just want to know one thing: why? Why didn't you kill Halevi? You certainly had that look in your eye, and I know you never back down from a fight, so what gives?"

"Are you disappointed? I thought you disagreed with the notion in the first place."

"Well, I did, but I didn't think it would sway you anyway. Or did it?"

"No, sorry Jet. It wasn't because of you. And I didn't back down either. I just…"he paused, trying to think of the appropriate words, "I just didn't think he had to die, I guess. I don't know, what does it matter?"

Jet was staring at him, perplexed. Then he shrugged and looked absently at the empty plates on the table. "I just need to know who I'm dealing with now. You seem different. Should I be concerned, Spike?"

Spike shrugged and started his slow hobble again. "Think what you want. We'll see what happens." He left the room.

Jet was worried. At first he was elated that Spike had restrained himself from killing. But that was before he went after Halevi. Small fragments of the encounter replayed over and over in his head. Going back down, he had met no resistance, as all the guards were still unconscious. He entered the steel-lined room to find Halevi on his knees trying to rise, but having a difficult time of it. When he looked up to Jet's wary approach, he had a very evil smile on his face. He had said "I know why you're here, Mr. Black. And I will let you do it, but first you should know something." At that point Jet had said something defiant and derisive, but it was overshadowed by Halevi's next statement. The main one that kept replaying in Jet's head. "He showed doubt, Mr. Black. Your fearless partner was insecure and unsure of what to do. He's starting to soften, and soon, he will make a mistake. And that mistake may cost him his life. Or yours." Jet replied with something indignant to which Halevi had started to laugh hysterically. Jet raised his weapon and ordered the small man to be quiet, but Halevi continued his insane laughter, until Jet did what he originally came to do.

Afterwards, he stared at Halevi's body without seeing it, thinking about the man's words. He tried to shake away the doubt that was growing, but the seed had been planted. Was his partner's new-found conscience a wolf in sheep's clothing? He was torn viciously from his thoughts however when a sharp pain hit him in the shoulder. One of the guards had woken up and crawled to the room, taking the shot with an unsteady hand. Jet had quickly dealt with him, and the journey back to the surface was nothing but a blur.

Jet resigned to follow Spike's suggestion to just wait and see. He didn't feel comfortable listening to the ramblings of a madman anyway, but Spike's answer to his question hadn't been all that comforting either. He would just have to wait and see.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Ok, can I just put it out there that Spike is probably the hardest character to write in the history of writing? I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but this story is really intended to be a character study, my way of figuring out who Spike is. At the point we're at in the story, Spike's going through some major life changes, so I had to think, well, what were his motives in the first place for getting where he is? But of course, one of the intriguing things about him is that he's so mysterious; we don't know much about his past, even the whole Julia/Red Dragon thing is mysterious. His personality itself is multi-faceted, so where do you think that comes from? Yeah, I have no idea either. And thus, we have our problem. I've been watching movies and reading stories for the past three weeks trying to figure out where Spike might be coming from, but finally I threw my hands up and wrote this little diddy this morning. Hope ya'll like it!**

"**It's just that he was all alone. Always by himself. Never anyone to share the game. A man who lived in dreams - that's who he was."**

* * *

My earliest memory is of my mother. She always looked so sad, so tired. They tried to keep it from me, but I knew she was dying. She had been her whole life. I'm not sure how she and my father met. I liked to imagine it was romantic and sincere, but, come to think of it, I don't even know if they were married. She may have been a one-night stand that he didn't have the heart to leave.

That tired face. She smiled slightly at me; I was holding her hands. That's what I remember. She was lying down. I was crying. My dad hugged me from behind, then dragged me away. It was cold in that house, cold and damp as always. But after that day, the chill settled in my bones and never left. That was the day she died. I think I was two, but who really knows.

My dad had never been an open person; I don't know if it was just difficult for him to show his feelings, or if he really didn't have any. After she died, he was gone more often. He must have felt at least some responsibility to his only son, because he at least came back every now and then with food. At least at first. His absences grew longer and longer, his visits back shorter and shorter, until one day, he just never came back.

At that point I had lost track of time. All I ever thought about was food; the constant gnawing in my stomach kept me from thinking anything else. Nothing mattered except catching a rat to eat, or sneaking into the market and stealing my next meal. At first I at least had the house. The cold empty place held no meaning to me except shelter from the wet Martian nights and the mud kicked up from a cold strangers heels. But then they came, the big people in the black coats. I don't know why, but I just knew they were bad. I tried to sneak out through the crawl space, but one of them caught me. What motive would they have to beat up a four year old? Sick pleasure, greed, selfish desires, power. That was the true nature of people. They left me on the dusty wood floor, bloody and broken. Now there was nothing. I didn't even spare a second glance at my blood soaking into the wood. I left that house for the last time.

I found an alleyway on the other side of town. One door lead out to it, which it had an overhang and radiated heat. I stayed there for a night, and then the succeeding nights. By day I wandered the streets, picking the pockets of rich and poor alike. Occasionally I would stop by a martial arts studio and watch through the window. I liked to pretend I was in there with the other students. I listened to the sensei, and marveled at the power and skill of the students. I would mimic them at night before I slept. My life was that of a feral animal but for that one pleasure, until I got caught watching by one of the students. I didn't notice him until he grabbed me from behind and threw me to the ground.

He threatened me, asked me why I was there and what I was doing. I didn't say anything, I just waited for the pain that always came from dealing with other people. He reached down and tried to grab my shirt, but I blocked his arm out of instinct and scrambled up into one of the defensive positions I had seen from the other side of the glass. He stared wide-eyed, then doubled over laughing.

"Wow…what the hell is that? Shit, if you do that, you're gonna drown!" He managed to get out that odd insult between laughs. I started to run, but he grabbed me from behind and threw me down…again. "I've seen you through the window. We all have." I glared up at him, still not saying anything. "You have potential but I think you missed one big concept. It's kind of like learning to swim on dry land. At least that's what sensei said. You gotta be like clear water." He helped me up then, and that's how it was. Everyday, I came to the studio, and everyday, he would teach me the things he was learning. Why he did it, I can only guess. Even when I directly asked him, he beat around the question, "Well, how else can I beat up a little kid like you and not get in trouble?". Looking back, I think maybe he needed me as much as I needed him: a friend, someone to look out for, a reason to keep going. He said his name was Hajime "but everyone calls me Spike, don't ask me why."

He was twelve when I met him. He was thirteen the day he died.

* * *

"Hey kid, how old are you?" Spike asked. We were sitting by the river amongst the broken bottles and discarded diapers, watching the flow in the late afternoon sun. I looked at him, thinking.

"Six, I think."

"You think? You don't know?"

"No."

"That's pretty stupid shorty. What kind of kid doesn't know how old he is?"

I shrugged, saying nothing. He looked at me.

"Hey, I got an idea, let's go across the river, there's something I want to see."

"What?"

"It's a surprise, stupid! Besides, it's my birthday. I get to call the shots."

I shrugged again, but got up and followed him. We ended up at an abandoned warehouse. The floor was covered in dust, the windows were broken, and old machinery that once bustled and shined was now silent and rusted. For some reason I was nervous; a bad feeling had been growing in me all day, and now it seemed even more apparent. I told him. He scoffed and ran to the other end of the building. "What's there to be nervous about kid, there's no one here but us. Isn't this place sweet!" He yelled. With his assurances, I shrugged off my nagging suspicions, grinned, and ran after him.

We chased each other, darting around the old equipment, pretending, living our dreams and fantasies. He was a brave samurai and I was his student. Then he was a gangster. Then a crazy man from Earth. Finally, after hours it seemed, we collapsed heaving onto the floor, rolling in the dust and laughing. As we lay, catching out breath, we gazed up through the broken roof at the stars that were starting to show. Finally, he spoke. "You know, there's a rumor that there is this old crazy Indian that lives around here. Sensei tells us not to mind rumors, but I wonder if he exists. They say he talks about stars and fortune telling, that sort of thing. I wonder what he would tell me."

"Yeah, me too." I replied, but at heart, I knew what a man like that would say. That I was dead on the inside. I was no great warrior, just a feral cat that got by in the world by however he could. The thought saddened me, and I turned to lie on my side, forcing my gaze away from the stars that shined above, free from wrong and harm, safe, nestled in the black bosom of the sky. I felt my eyes start to water, but held back the tears. Spike didn't notice. I was glad of that.

We lay like that for a while; from the sound of his deep breathing, Spike had fallen asleep. I was starting to get hungry and sat up. As I did so though, I heard footsteps coming from the far side of the building and muffled voices. I shook him awake and put a finger to my lips, inclining my head in the direction of the sounds. He grinned and got up, motioning for me to follow. We glided over and peered through one of the rusted machines at two groups of men, four guys per side. They were wearing black overcoats. My stomach started to sink as I realized that my bad feeling was justified. I started to feel panicky and lightheaded, and backed away. Unfortunately, I didn't notice the steel beam on the ground behind me, and tripped over it with a clang. Spike muttered 'Shit!' and started running in the opposite direction of the men, grabbing my shirt collar as he passed me and dragging me along with him.

Then I heard the gunshot.

At first, he stumbled a little but kept going. But even as they cocked the gun again, he slowed, and dropped to his knees. I scrambled in front of him, trying to get him to look at me. He panted, shock on his face. He couldn't seem to comprehend why he was feeling so lightheaded and numb, or why the front of his shirt was so wet and warm. He looked me in the eyes, and grinned. "Guess the real thing isn't as much fun, eh kid?" He coughed, blood splattering out. "Too bad we can't live our dreams." He slumped over, letting out a breath. I shook him, but he was gone. With a snarl I started running towards the men.

"YOU BASTARDS!" I jumped in the air and landed a kick on one, dodging the blows that they were trying to land on me. I managed to get quite a few hits in before they chopped me on the back of my head, and darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, I was in a bed. A real bed, with sheets. My head ached, but all I could think about was Spike. Then I noticed a small man sitting across the room. He walked over to me.

"Good morning, how are you feeling?" I said nothing. He continued "I'm very sorry about your friend, a rival syndicate thought he was spying and shot him before they real-"

"You killed him, you bastards! He was thirteen years old and you killed him! Fuck you and your bullshit!" I started to get up, but then my head pounded in fury. I sat back down to stop the room from spinning. He started again.

"What's done is done. What's in the past is gone, the only thing you need to worry about is the present. You're here because my men were impressed with your fighting and passed the word on to me. My name is Mao. What's yours?" I kept mum again. He continued. "How old are you, and where did you learn how to fight? You are very good for your age you know…what are you six, seven? We can hone your skills here, if you wish. You'd have a bed, food, water, shelter, and schooling. A place to call home, which is more that you have, given your appearance." I glared at him.

"Fuck you!"

He smiled. "Well, give it some thought. You can stay here for as long as you want. You are free to move about the building, but don't try to leave. The consequences would be dire if you were to do so." I caught his meaning. He rose and closed the door behind him. After a moment, I rose as well, changed out of the pajamas that they put me into and back into my street clothes, and snuck out the door. The room opened up into a long hallway, the lush red carpeting lit by sunlight. Even without looking out the window, I knew I was high up, which meant I was in the building for the Red Dragon Syndicate Headquarters, the tallest building in the city. Darting along the hallway, I peeked into various doors. In one a long table of food was laid out. My stomach grumbled, but I had only one thought on my mind: escape. Several of the rooms were offices, some looked like classrooms. One even opened up into an indoor garden. But it wasn't until I got to the last door that I stopped and stared. There was a class going on. Martial arts. I immediately thought of Spike, and with that came a twinge of pain, lots of frustration and anger, but, on top of it all, a smooth layer of wonder and hope. I'd always felt far away from reality when I dedicated myself to it. All the dirt and grim that the world was made of didn't matter when I flowed like water. Everything melted away. Someone stepped up behind me. I knew it was Mao. I smirked, and a grim determination came over me. Still staring at the class, I said five words that started the rest of my life.

"Spike, my name is Spike."

* * *

**A/N...again: Good? I know I changed from third person to first person in this chap., I don't know if it's taboo to do that or not. Whatever, more is a'comin', I already have half of the next chapter written (I actually started writing it back in April when I was at a conference - sat in the back and "took notes" on my laptop while listening to the amazing world of parasites, fungi, and coagulation factors. What a great student I was). Later you guys!**


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out, I've been obsessed with the ATLA fandom, and it ain't going away anytime soon. Also, sorry if this chappie is cliche. It might seem like it, but, well, I dunno the setting in the actual anime is kinda cliche, so, yeah.

Also, FYI, hot toddies are the most amazing drink ever, if you're of age, you should totally try one. ** Fin**

* * *

Turn, corridor, hobble to the end. Turn, corridor, hobble to the end. After forty minutes of the cycle, peaking into unfamiliar rooms filled with this and that, the weary Spike was seriously questioning whether or not the ship was actually following the laws of physics, or if, as it seemed, the inside was in fact bigger than the outside. He then reasoned that maybe he wasn't paying the most attention and was simply walking in circles, which was entirely possible. He had been mulling over what Jet had asked him earlier and still hadn't come up with a good answer. In fact, he was so distracted by his thoughts, that he didn't notice the large yellow object in front of him until he had nearly run it down.

"Watch where you're going lunkhead!"

"Oh, hey Faye." He answered uninterestedly. She scoffed.

"You could at least pretend to be sorry for almost knocking me down." She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. He stared at her blankly for a moment. Then he remembered something that had been bothering him.

"Say Faye, where did you go while I was bleeding to death in Jet's cockpit? I could've used a little help, you know."

Her defensive stance slipped for a millisecond, so quickly that even Spike barely caught it. It was resumed just as quickly as it fell, and she phsawed and waved a hand at his face. "I was busy, women things, you wouldn't understand so why should I even bother trying to explain? It's none of your business anyway, why do you always have to be so nosey!" He stared back at her blankly. She felt naked under his gaze and started to fidget. The silence between them lengthened until finally it was unbearable for her. She decided to evade. "So why did you get a cast put on instead of something more modern? You know they have stuff these days that can fix bones in minutes."

He shrugged. "How should I know, I woke up here. If it's so important to you, ask Jet, I'm busy right now."

"Busy? What could someone in your condition be busy with?"

He put on a mock-brave face and stood in a heroic posture. "I'm on a quest, my lady, to find the quarters of this brave knight." He shot her a wolfish smirk.

She scoffed again. "Yeah, good luck with that." She started walking off, waving behind her, "I'll see you around, brave knight."

Spike let out a small smile at his successful foray at getting rid of Faye; a technique he was constantly working on. He turned back to his path, this time actually focusing on where he was.

It was a short, dark corridor, with ladder rungs at the far wall that most likely lead to the hanger. It smelled dank and musty; obviously it wasn't an often-trafficked part of the ship. About twenty feet from him, near the ladder rungs, was a door. He gathered his crutches and hobbled over.

It looked like one of the many storage rooms he'd already found, but this one had a rolled-up mattress sitting on top of a few large containers that had been pushed together. This, obviously, must be the room Jet had intended for him three years ago. He stepped in, unrolled the mattress, and sat. To his left was a pillow, which he picked up to shake off the layer of dust covering it. Before he began though, from the corner of his eye he saw a small white envelope that had been covered by the pillow. Opening it, he found Jet's tight scrawl.

_Hey Spike, I hope this will do for quarters. I still don't know you too well, but I figured you'd like being this close to your Swordfish. Let's hope this partnership is prosperous. Dinner is at 7 –Jet_

He turned it over to see if there was anything else, and finding nothing, he then set it down, shrugged, and decided it was a nice time for a nap.

* * *

When her door closed, Faye sank to the floor and hugged her knees, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort. She knew Spike had seen right through her lie, and hated herself for showing that kind of weakness. She rested her head on her knees and heaved a sigh. "I could have just told him…" she muttered to herself. 'Why do I always have to be so guarded? Humph. You know perfectly well why. The minute you let yourself show weakness, they eat you alive.'

Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts drift back to the day before. She had been suspicious about the reach of Halevi's influence when it had been revealed that the whole thing was a set-up, though she kept it to herself. When Spike had been shot, she knew that one guard on the roof couldn't be the end of it; a man like Halevi was thorough, as experience had taught her. So after she'd hopped into the Redtail and taken off, she was not all that surprised to find about fifteen ships waiting for her just out of atmo.

For one brief moment she thought about running. Her heart pounded and a thin layer of sweat had broken out; the feeling of panic and fear was so strong. In the space of seconds she rationalized 'to hell with those men, I can find my own way! But am I not changing into a better person than that? I told Jet that before…I could just go and not worry about anyone but myself, those lunkheads are nothing but trouble makers.' But, despite her rationalizations, she couldn't do it. A new sense of responsibility had taken hold of her, and it would not back down to her former mentalities. The Bebop was her home now, and she would defend it. A new strength rushed into her bones. With a devilish grin, she muttered into her comm "Come on boys, let's dance." And rushed headlong into the tight-knit group of vessels.

She barely got out unscathed. At the end, she was exhausted, but extremely fulfilled.

"So I can fight for them, but I still can't confide in them." She muttered to the darkness. She breathed out a long, tired sigh. 'One step at a time, one step at a time.'

* * *

Spike was bored. Completely, mind-numbingly, excruciatingly bored. At first he tried working out, but the cast hindered his movements and threw him off-balance. He tried playing Shogi with Jet, then Ed, and then Ein, but the appeal wore off quickly. He tried watching TV, but given how he was out of the game for a while, that only served to frustrate him. Yes, after two weeks of monotony, Spike had had enough.

Jet was startled, but not entirely surprised when Spike stormed the doorway of the Bonsai room. It was obvious how restless he had been getting, and Jet knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped. "Yeah, what's on your mind Spike?" He teased.

"You know what's on my mind, Jet! How long is it going to be before we land this rig?"

"Well actually, I just got word of job last night, and we're on our way right at this moment. Should be there a couple hours."

Spike stared at him in disbelief, but quickly his temper came back. "So, when were you planning on telling me this? And more importantly, where are we going?"

"I thought it would be fun to see just how long it would take for you to get to this point; it's been quite entertaining watching you stew the past few weeks." Spike glared at him. "We're going back to Calisto. Me and Faye are going to catch a couple of small fries."

"Fine, anything is better than staying on this ship for another day."

"Are you sure you should be coming?" Spike looked at Jet incredulously. "What I mean is, Calisto is a shady kind of place. Obviously you can't do a job with us, but even walking around might not be such a good idea in your condition. You know better than me how people on Calisto go for the vulnerable."

"I can take care of myself!" Spike crossed his arms indignantly and pouted. He knew he should heed Jet's warning, but he had to get off the ship, even if only for a little while. His stance slumped slightly in defeat. "Aw shit, fine, you're probably right Jet. I'll just hang out on the deck for a while."

"I'm glad you agree." He turned his attention back to his Bonsai trees. Spike sighed and shuffled back to the common room. He settled back and turned on the TV, zoning out.

Faye came in sometime later and sat on the chair. Spike was sleeping on the couch. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. She lifted a leg and slammed it on the table, enjoying the yelp of surprise from Spike and he jumped up. "So whatever happened to the quest to find your room, Spike? Or did you abandon it?" Spike shot her a glare.

"No, I found it. But, I don't know, it just didn't say "Spike", you know?"

"Oh yeah, I get it. The common room says "Spike" much more. Or at least it smells like Spike much more." She added coyly. He moved to jump up, and she watched in amusement as he lost his balance and tripped over his cast. Faye laughed at the growling invalid. He glared at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Faye, why don't you go do something productive, like finding an airlock to get sucked out of?"

Faye shrugged the comment off easily. "Because where would the fun be in that? Giving you a hard time is just way too amusing to give up." She grinned with a mischievous look in her eye. "And anyway, I was doing something productive. We're only a few minutes away from Calisto, and I was going to get the ships prepared."

"Who are you going after, anyways? Jet said a bunch of small fries."

"Oh just some gang of thugs, altogether they're worth about 10 million, and they shouldn't put up too much of a fight. What are you going to do while we're out?"

"None of your damn business!"

She rolled her eyes and walked in the direction of the hanger. "Whatever, Spike. Just don't go and break the other leg, ok?" He made to lunge at her again, and fortunately caught himself before tripping again. He settled back down on the couch with a growl and glared at the floor.

Twenty minutes later Jet walked through. "Ok Spike, we're going. Don't do anything stupid, alright?"

Spike smirked up at him. "Sure thing pal, like I'd ever do something stupid."

Jet groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, muttering as he made his way to the hanger. Spike waited a moment, his smirk growing into a sly grin. "Like going out for an hour is stupid. I'll be back before they know it." With that he jumped up and made his way to the dock, grabbing a coat on the way out.

* * *

As Spike hobbled down a back-alley, his concentration alternated between trying not to slip on the snow-covered ice, and trying not to look too conspicuous, but still trying to look just helpless enough to get some thug to think he could get away with attacking a cripple. It was a tedious job of multitasking, and after thirty minutes of no hassling and eight slips onto his backside, he wasn't doing well at any of his tasks. He slid a hand down his face with a sigh, and opted to wander into a small tavern to warm up a little.

It was dark and smoke-filled, with a few shady characters sitting at the tables, one at the bar, and a soft piano stroking out some sweet melancholy tune, probably about some lost love. "What a depressing place." He muttered to himself, and sat at the bar.

"Hot toddy, make it a double." The bartender shuffled away without a word, and Spike used his peripheral to check out the only other man at the bar. He was only interested because the man seemed to be trying his best not to make eye-contact, in that way that meant he recognized him but for some reason didn't want to associate at that moment. After a minute or two of Spike trying to catch his eye, and the man determinedly looking the other direction, Spike opened his mouth. "Hey pal, you got a problem with me?"

The man froze, then let out a shuddering breath. Spike lifted an eyebrow. The man suddenly scooted back, simultaneously putting a dark hood up and knocking the stool over, and rushed out the door. Spike blinked in his wake, then turned grinning to the bartender who was approaching with his drink. "Heh, what do you think his problem was?" The bartender said nothing, turned his back and started washing glasses. Spike shrugged. "Yep, depressing place alright." He muttered, sipping his drink complacently.

* * *

After his drink, Spike decided to head back, albeit disappointed that his outing wasn't more eventful. He was managing the snow better this time now that he wasn't focused on discretely attracting attention. However, even if all his focus was purely on keeping his balance and footing, his sharp senses couldn't miss the soft footfalls behind him. The few times he glanced back there was no one, but sure enough when he turned back around and walked forward more, the footfalls would be there as sure as his own hobble to his ears.

When he was almost back to the ship, he finally stopped and turned. "Look pal, you have the nerve to follow me but not pay any attention to my simple questions at the bar? Did you miss the finer points of making casual conversation, or do I have to teach them to you?" Spike sank into defensive stance, gripping his crutches tightly, and a mischievous smirk painted on his face. A shadow warily separated itself from the wall of a nearby building, arms stiff and gloved fingers twitching slightly. When the figure got twenty feet away it stopped. A hoarse, quiet voice wafted from under the hood. "I…I know who you are."

"Well yeah I figured that, why else would you be following me?" Spike retorted smartly.

"I…was requisitioned once to collect a bounty on your head. Halevi…" Spike flinched, "…he, knew I was the one who could break you, but, I couldn't do it. Not after what happened to the…to the syndicate." Spike raised his eyebrows. Now that he had not been expecting. The man spoke again. "Just know…there are people out there that resent the falling of the syndicate. There are also others, like myself, who know that it was going downhill too fast to be saved, and you did us a favor by doing what needed to be done." As he had been speaking the man slowly moved closer, until now, where he was two feet away, though his hood still concealed his face.

"Who are you?" Spike asked quietly, his stance relaxing, confusion now plastered to his face.

"We were close once. Who I am is not important anymore. I have fallen from grace. You though, are still influential enough to…do something."

"What the hell are you talking about, stop with the riddles already and give me a straight answer!"

The man flinched. "There are…rumors I guess. That those who fell from power are seeking it again. These men are more dangerous than even Vicious was. If they knew I was speaking with you…well, even now they may be close, and I don't have that long to live. But no matter, I have done what needs to be done. Please Spike," a dark eye peered at him from the hood, pleading, and a hand reached to grab his arm, "please, don't let the Red Dragon come back."

Spike shook the arm off and back up a step. "I'm done with all that. I'm trying to figure out a new life for myself; I can't get tangled back up with them." He fixed a stern gaze on the hooded figure. "My syndicate days died at the top of that building. The person who I was died. I'm not him anymore." He backed up a few more steps.

The figure once again fixed and eye on him, now despairing. "Then all is lost. Good luck Spike. I'm glad I had the chance to know you." The figure turned slowly, sinking back into the shadows.

"Who are you?" Spike whispered again. The man continued his path, ignoring Spike's question. "Who are you!" Spike yelled at the shadows to where the man had disappeared. Spike grumbled, turned heel with a small lapse of balance, and hobbled angrily the rest of the way to the ship. 'I won't let this bother me. I won't let this bother me. It's not my problem. I won't let this bother me.' His thoughts repeated the mantra the rest of the evening.

The next morning, Spike and the Swordfish were gone.


End file.
